


If Saturn's Rings Should Fade Away (It'd Still be an Impressive Planet)

by DevinBourdain



Series: Saturn's Rings series [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Captain Spock, Disability, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, McCoy and Kirk making friends all over the place, PSTD, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, fallout from Nero, khan - Freeform, post Nero, relationships, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 112,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinBourdain/pseuds/DevinBourdain
Summary: Newly coined Captain Spock, has just been given the reigns of the best ship in the fleet, Pike’s only request is that he gets the best crew possible to help him out.  Dr Leonard McCoy is the best, the only problem is he comes with a lot of baggage; mostly in the form of a blond, irritable, troublemaking, shadow.The crew doesn’t know what to make of the elusive man living in McCoy’s quarters and Spock’s concerned he’s bitten off more than he can handle but perhaps all the craziness just might be what everyone needs to up hold the Enterprise’s reputation.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Series: Saturn's Rings series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935181
Comments: 631
Kudos: 518





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.  
> Warnings: language and violence.  
> Comments are always welcome and appreciated

Spock eyes the clock in the back of the classroom very carefully. It's in direct line with the teacher's vision, yet despite the designated end of the class having occurred, the teacher is still continuing his lesson. The students don't seem to mind or perhaps they have yet to notice that it is time to proceed to the next classes in their schedule. They appear to be enthusiastic about the presentation occurring in the small lecture hall, both class and teacher building on each other's interest in the topic. While well versed in a variety of subjects, specifically those of a scientific nature, Spock's understanding of this subject matter is rather stunted. The holograms of models have little meaning to him compared to those in the classroom. He straightens his uniform jacket and contemplates the likely outcome of his proposal should he barge into class before the teacher dismisses his students.

Humans are rarely logical, and thus disrupting the proceedings would most likely diminish his chances of eliciting a favorable response. He's been warned of the vindictive nature of the man he seeks. Spock will wait; however, punctuality is a desired trait in Starfleet officers. It is a trait he intends to enforce under his command.

Class finally lets out, fifteen point thirty-eight minutes late. The students file out, enthusiastic about the topics covered and engaged in boisterous conversation as they disperse to their next classes. Spock nods in greeting to the few cadets that acknowledge him as they pass through the door.

"It's rude to linger in doorways," barks the teacher from within the classroom as he starts to put items away in his attaché.

Spock raises an eyebrow. He thought he had stayed out of the professor's eye line during the lecture as he lingered in the hallway waiting for his opportunity to speak with the man. Apparently Spock miscalculated.

He makes his way into the lecture hall, past the rows of now abandoned desks, to the front of the classroom. There's something about the man before him that sets Spock on edge. He's studied up on his target with everything Starfleet could provide and even went so far as to contact former colleagues and classmates to assure his success in this mission. Everything he's learned has been a contradictory that further expands the riddle of just who is Doctor Leonard McCoy.

The source of his visit is busy cramming PADDs, and an actual paperback book in his attaché case. "Plead your case," snaps Leonard, closing his case with more force than necessary.

"My case?" asks Spock. "I'm not sure of your meaning professor..."

"Doctor," corrects Leonard, harshly. "It's Doctor. My PhD means I can save lives. A fact of which I'm sure you're aware since you've been askin 'bout me."

 _"_ _You'll catch more flies with honey, Spock,"_ rings in his head. Captain Pike had warned Spock about McCoy's difficult nature but insisted the benefits would outweigh the doctor's cantankerous tendencies. That conclusion has yet to be seen, but his mentor has yet to steer Spock wrong. Humans however, are not infallible.

Leonard stares expectantly at Spock as though he's waiting to hear the excuse for an unfinished assignment. "You stood in the hall for twenty minutes and didn't manage to find the time to have your sales pitch planned out?"

"You knew I was waiting in the hall?" asks Spock. It's this behaviour that perplexes Spock. Clearly the doctor is rather astute but is waiting for something specific from Spock.

"I'm not blind," huffs Leonard. "Figured if it was important you'd stick around. Plus you might cut to the point quicker if I kept you waitin."

"Very well," concedes Spock, "I have been given captaincy of the USS Enterprise and the authority to pick my crew for a five year exploration expedition."

"Congratulations, Captain," says Leonard half-heartedly as he picks up his case and starts to head for the door. Spock is quick to follow on his heels. "Finally get to step out of Pike's shadow?"

Leonard spares a glance over his shoulder to catch an inquisitive look on the Vulcan's face. "I remember you. You're kinda hard to forget," he says. "There ain't a lot of Vulcans left after Nero, even fewer still in Starfleet."

Spock remembers McCoy too. Captain Pike had him shuttled out to meet the Enterprise when an important delegate had contracted a new parasite. The doctor's stay was brief and he spent most of the month tucked away in medical, but Pike spoke highly of him and often. The delegate was saved and the negotiations were successfully completed, giving Spock no grounds to dispute Pike's claims, though he never interacted with the doctor himself.

"Based on your credentials and recommendations by Starfleet command, I have come to offer the Chief Medical Officer position to you," explains Spock, cutting to the heart of the matter. His mission starts in two months and the CMO position is the last one he has to fill.

Leonard lets out a laugh, but Spock fails to see the humour. The opportunity to serve aboard the Enterprise is a high honor, second only by the opportunity to be at the forefront of frontier exploration that promises to reveal new discoveries in science and medicine.

"I'm a teacher not a ship's surgeon. Not anymore at least," concedes McCoy.

"Accepting the post would change your status back to an active serving officer." After the incident with Nero had been settled, McCoy had taken an extended leave of absence from duty. There is nothing in the records about it other than being classified as medical leave. He returned to serve at Starfleet medial for year which included the month aboard the Enterprise, before taking an earth position as a professor at Starfleet academy, teaching advance xenobiology classes for the last five years. It's a peculiar career path for a man that was a shining and promising star in frontier medicine.

"That's the least of my concerns, Captain. Not all of us can just drop everything and fly out in to the black on some sparkly tin can."

"It is the duty of every officer to be prepared..." starts Spock. Status can change in a moment, and even though an officer expresses desire to stay on earth, they may be required to serve elsewhere. McCoy may be holding an inactive post but for all intents and purposes he is still an active officer, not having officially retired from Starfleet.

"Some things are more complicated," counters Leonard, feeling the last of his patience die a quick death. "I wouldn't be a good fit." He's not a stranger to receiving requests to join crews, though they have dwindled in the last few years. Leaving earth for a posting on a vessel just isn't an option these days, even if the idea sounds good on paper. Most people have gotten the hint and leave Leonard to teach the next group of cutting edge physicians that are going to change the face of medicine. The front lines just aren't for him anymore.

"As a commanding officer, I can have you reinstated as an officer with an active post," points out Spock.

Leonard rounds on Spock, jabbing him in the shoulder with each hate filled word he utters, "Try it and see what happens!" He storms off after that muttering to himself all the way.

Spock stands there in the hallway looking in the direction McCoy stormed off in. Everyone else he has approached for assignment aboard the Enterprise has considered it a high honor. No one has turned his down yet. Based on his interaction with McCoy, he thinks the doctor is correct, he wouldn't be a good fit, but McCoy's name is the only one Captain Pike insist that he recruit out of the page of recommendations he gave Spock for various positions on the ship.

Perhaps more research is required to sway Dr McCoy to consider the post.

* * *

"That sounds like McCoy," chuckles Pike, as Spock recounts their encounter.

Spock frowns. "If you knew he would not be receptive to my offer, why would you insist I make it?"

"Consider it your first real test of your captaincy," says Pike seriously, leaning closer to the camera. "Get McCoy to be you CMO. Consider that my final order as _your_ captain, Spock," says Pike before taping the communication video closed.

Spock opts to draft a letter asking McCoy to reconsider his offer. He's prepared to listen to considerations McCoy might need to un-complicate his situation. He sends a copy of the letter to Nyota Uhura for review. Their relationship may have turned from romantic to platonic years ago but she is willing to help him navigate the treacherous waters of human behaviour whenever he needs it. Perhaps she can help him phrase it so the doctor will reconsider.

* * *

Spock presses the doorbell yet again. He would assume no one is home but he can hear someone thumping around the old large farmhouse and it was a rather long drive to get here, to simply turn around because McCoy is being stubborn about answering the door. The door finally opens. Spock's mouth hangs open as he tries to rethink his opening line now that he's faced with someone other than McCoy.

"What do _you_ want?" demands the disheveled young man. He's probably a decade younger than McCoy, with blond hair, intense blue eyes and an impish grin that dances behind his eyes even if he's scowling at Spock and blocking the door like McCoy`s personal bouncer. There's a scar that runs along his hair line starting from his left ear, creeping over his eye and terminating in the middle of his forehead. While his hair is kept on the shorter side, it's shaggy enough that falls over the scar unless he moves his head abruptly. It's only slightly more noticeable than the one running jaggedly down his left forearm near the wrist.

The young man must notice Spock's gaze because he shifts his body so his left arm is tucked behind him.

"I was looking for McCoy," states Spock.

"Well you found him," replies the young man as he continues to stare down Spock as though daring Spock to challenge the claim.

"Dr Leonard McCoy," restates Spock.

"Oh, you wanted _Dr_ McCoy," he adds in a tone that suggests he never actually thought Spock had come looking for anyone other than Leonard. "He stepped out for a bit so you'll have to wait."

The young man turns and ambles back through the house. He has a rather pronounced limp that hinders his speed. "Don't stand in the doorway; you'll let all the bugs in. Leonard hates bugs," he calls over his shoulder.

Spock steps inside with that rather informal invitation. While he cannot see any physical resemblance between the young man and Leonard, they seem to share a similar disposition. He follows his guide through the hallway heading to the living room. The hallway is covered with photos, mostly of a little girl that seems to grow up by the time he reaches the living room. McCoy is in a lot of them, looking every bit the proud parent, so the girl must be the daughter Spock discovered in his research. She turned eighteen this year so that shouldn't be one of the complications Leonard referred to.

Also in the pictures of the later years, is the young man, looking just as disheveled as he is now and just as proud as Leonard. "Are you Leonard's brother?" asks Spock, eliminating other options based on the evidence or lack of evidence he has observed.

The young man chuckles. "Sure. Let's go with that."

Spock doesn't get the joke but he often fails to see the humor in things. He sits down on the couch in a formal and rigid manner, feeling like he's intruded in a world he doesn't belong. He never would have expected McCoy to be the farm type, yet here he is, on a piece of land two hours outside of San Francisco. There are even animals running around the property.

"You want something to drink? I think we have tea or water, or... tea," offers the young man staring at the kitchen intently like it will tell him what is stored there.

"Tea would be appreciated," says Spock, employing a social method Uhura taught him. His host gets up with a great deal of effort and makes the arduous journey to the kitchen. There's a cane leaning against the couch that would no doubt make his efforts easier, but he doesn't seem inclined to make use of it.

"Leonard doesn't get many visitors out here, especially ones in uniform. What brings Starfleet out here anyway?" shouts the man from the kitchen whom Spock has designated 'brother McCoy' until he can access McCoy's file and look up the name that the young man seems to be with holding.

"I've come to see if he will reconsider a posting on my ship," states Spock, over the rattling and clanging in the kitchen.

Spock's eyes take in every detail of the house. Every square inch goes against what Spock would have calculated for McCoy. He would have hypothesised the doctor would live in a modern sleek apartment in the heart of the city, close to the academy and medical, yet not too far from the trendy shopping and dining the city affords. Part time husbandry in a cluttered and messy dwelling is a far cry from the sterile surgical rooms McCoy made a career from.

"What ship do you command?"

"I am taking command of the Enterprise," answers Spock.

The house fills with the ringing of smashed glass as shards tap dance across the wooden kitchen floor. "Fuck!" yells the young man, followed by the sound of more glass shattering as it collides with the wall.

Spock starts to get up to see what's happening when the front door opens and Leonard walks in. His face contorts from surprise to anger as he sees Spock standing in his living room.

"You just don't take no for an answer do you?" he demands.

Some more glass shatters in the kitchen and Leonard's irritation at Spock turns to concern for the man in the kitchen. "What did you do?" demands Leonard, glaring hard at Spock as he hurries towards the kitchen. He puts his hand up to stop Spock from following. "Stay there. I'll deal with you in a minute."

"Jim?" is all Spock can make out before Leonard shuts the kitchen door.

It's an hour before Leonard reappears. Spock looks but he can't see 'Jim' anywhere in the kitchen. Leonard looks particularly angry and somehow equally exhausted as he comes back in the living room. "What do you want, Spock?" he asks tiredly.

Spock stands at attention. "I've come to ask you to reconsider my offer."

"I've told you no in person and in writing to all seven of your letters. Isn't that enough?" Leonard flops tiredly into an oversized recliner, like he has nothing more to give this world.

"It is not the answer I seek," says Spock.

Leonard looks longingly back towards the kitchen. "We don't always get what we want."

"He wants you to serve aboard the USS Enterprise. That's a hell of a thing to turn down," says Jim, appearing from another room. He's changed his clothes but even the new long sleeved shirt isn't long enough to hide the fresh bandages on his hand.

"Jim, don't those chickens need feeding?" asks Leonard, exasperated.

Jim scowls like a petulant child but finishes putting on a worn flannel coat. "Yeah, yeah. Adults are talking. I get it," he mutters before heading outside in a huff.

"Jim, don't be like that," Leonard calls after him but the door is already closed behind Jim.

"I told you it was complicated," says Leonard in what sounds like an apology as he shows Spock to the door. "Maybe in another life time Spock, but I just don't see it working out in this one."

Spock gets in his car. He still doesn't have the answer he came out here for and the enigma that is Leonard McCoy has just grown more tangled, yet the doctor didn't say no specifically this time.

* * *

Leonard sits as long as possible, his fingertips pressing craters into the leather arms of the chair as he waits. The sun starts to set, beginning its slowly lazy journey down the hills in the distance. The soft patter of rain drops beginning to fall spurs Leonard into action, throwing on a rain jacket and grabbing Jim's from the closet. All he needs is for Jim to catch his death out in the rain and the pathetic whining that inevitably follows a sick Jim.

The chickens are feed and settling into their coop for the night. Jim's not there, so Leonard continues meandering through the yard. The path is well worn from Jim's daily morning and evening routine. Bacon the pig and Wellington the cow are munching happily in their pens. The morose names were Jim's idea, though to exercise Jim's dark sense of humour after the Nero incident, or to simply remind himself not to get too attached to the animals, Leonard's never been sure. No matter, the animals they've purchased have earned a reprieve from death by anything other than natural causes.

The rain is starting to come down a little harder now, not torrential yet but still not fit for man or beast. The horses have even demonstrated the good sense to head into the barn, while Jim is still outside somewhere. Leonard would be concerned if it wasn't part of Jim's usual pattern when things are bothering him.

Jim's hanging out with the sheep. One of the ewes birthed a lamb a couple weeks ago and watching the young thing discover the world has become one of Jim's new favorite things. Leonard stands there and watches Jim for a couple of minutes. Out here, when Jim thinks he's alone, are the few moments when all the stress and disappointment drains from his eyes and he's that enthusiastic lover of life that Leonard met on that shuttle to the academy all those years ago.

Leonard misses those days.

Sometimes.

Jim's leaning heavily on the metal rails of the sheep pen, a good indicator that his leg is bothering him something fierce. Of course the kid didn't take his cane with him when he left the house and Leonard has more than a sneaking suspicion that Jim doesn't use it around the house when Leonard isn't there to nag him.

"Even the animals have the good sense to come in out of the rain," says Leonard walking over and draping Jim's coat over him. Jim snuggles into it pressing back into Leonard.

Jim shrugs. "I thought you just kept me around for my good looks."

There's something hesitant and unsure in Jim's voice, a broken piece that Leonard's never been able to set right after Nero, that creeps through even when he's trying to make a joke. He hates to see what everything has done to Jim's confident swagger. "Well not only," hums Leonard, squeezing Jim a little tighter before letting out a soft laugh.

Jim snickers too, before tipping his head back to plant an awkwardly placed kiss on Leonard.

"You should take it," says Jim seriously.

"It's not that simple, Jim," sighs Leonard.

"It could be," counters Jim, changing his gaze to focus on the shaky lamb. He clenches his teeth as he waits for Leonard's answer.

Leonard feels Jim tense up. It's an old conversation that just goes round in circles. "I'm happy here," he insists. It sounds convincing enough and for the most part it's true. He has the most important thing, wanting anything else would just be selfish at this point.

"Maybe I need a change? He seems pretty desperate. And he did come all the way out here. You could probably get anything you want," says Jim suggestively.

He's not wrong. Most people give up after the initial no, but Spock has made seven written request and two personal visits one of which included the trek out here with a pretty tempting offer. CMO of the flag ship out on a five year mission to parts unknown; aside from all the horrible ways they could and probably will die, the medical breakthroughs are enticing. Being out there in the fray is far more exciting than grading papers and instructing students on the difference between Kelpians from Torra Five and Torra Six.

"I like him," states Jim.

Leonard rolls his eyes. "You would." Spock isn't the kind of friend Jim needs. The two of them will have Leonard tied to the port nacelle and heading out to deep space in no time. He kisses the top of Jim's drenched head. "Don't confuse stupid with likeable, kid."

"Sound advice, you should take it," replies Jim.

"Well, I like stupid," counters Leonard as he steers Jim towards the house. He has to carry most of Jim's weight, his leg tired of the abuse of the day.

"He'd give you anything you want," insists Jim. "It could work this time.

"Mmm-humm," hums Leonard, continuing their slow trek indoors.


	2. Chapter 2

_'_ _This is the USS Troubadour hailing unidentified Romulan vessel, please respond._

_Repeat, this is the Federation research vessel Troubadour. We come in peace.'_

* * *

Spock glances up as Uhura enters his ready room.

"I can't believe you got your white whale," she says sitting down across from Spock with an impressed look on her face. "No one's been able to convince McCoy to take a posting for any amount of time except Captain Pike and that was only for a month. You managed a five year commitment. How?"

"We are still negotiating," replies Spock. He may yet still be in the group of people unable to obtain the doctor's services.

"Negotiating?" asks Uhura. "That's new."

"Dr McCoy requires special consideration if he is going to accept the position. Among other considerations we have agreed to a temporary assignment and re-evaluation of the situation after eight months time," explains Spock. He hands her a PADD.

She reads over the list of requirements. There's nothing completely outrageous on the list but it is rather specific in a way that can be accommodated with enough time but since the Enterprise is due to depart in two weeks, makes implementing rather tricky.

"I was hoping to use your connections to meet these requirements," says Spock.

"You want me to sweet talk already busy and settled members of the crew into making these happen?" surmised Uhura.

"It is my hope," agrees Spock.

"Alright, but you owe me one," warns Uhura with a smile that promises she will collect. She takes the PADD and leaves the ready room, smiling at First Officer Roberts and helmsmen Sulu as she crosses the bridge to the turbo lift. She has a lot of work to do; first trying to convince two crewmembers to give up their quarters and Engineer Scott to retrofit the quarters into one that meets McCoy's specs.

* * *

Uhura taps her foot as she listens to Scotty rant about all the work he still has to do and the time it will take to modify the rooms to accommodate the doctor's requests. He never pauses in his welding as he complains. She waits until he finally lifts the visor on his welding mask to ask, "So can you do it?"

"I'm not a miracle worker, lassie."

"We both know you are, Scotty."

He lets out a long sigh. They're still in space dock so configurations like this are easier but not something that's done this late in the game; and for all things, creating a bigger living unit for a doctor so he has one of the best views on the ship. Quarters have already been assigned, but if the Captain wants to go to all this trouble, Scotty will rise to the challenge. Even if he doesn't agree with it. "Aye lassie, I'll see that it's done."

"Thank you, Scotty."

"This is a lot of trouble to go to over some doctor, isn't?" he asks, scratching his head. Diplomats and special delegates are usually the ones that are a pain in the ass.

"Dr McCoy was one of the best in the field and the research papers and breakthroughs he made for Starfleet are at the top of medical advancement. He's the best and Captain Spock wants the best. This is what he needs to serve aboard a starship."

"I don't see what a double large family size room with extra large viewports has to do with being the best doctor," states Scotty casually.

Uhura isn't sure of some of the requests either. In fact, what she can recall of Leonard from their friendship at the academy, he absolutely hated being in space and certainly had no use for seeing it out a window. "It's what he asked for. Perhaps it has something to do with his daughter coming aboard." She looked at Leonard's crew file: Dr Leonard H McCoy and dependant J McCoy assigned to USS Enterprise for eight months. Leonard's daughter has to be almost an adult by now, maybe this is just old fashioned nepotism to try and get her ahead in Starfleet?

"Since when does Starfleet allow families on board a flag ship?"

"It's not ours to ask questions, Scotty. But McCoy is the best. I hear he was the one called in to help save Captain Pike after the battle with Nero. It was one of the first things he did after being rescued from the Narada."

Scotty goes a little pale. "He was one of the poor bastards taken hostage by Nero from the USS Troubadour?" He may have been stuck on a frozen rock while Vulcan was destroyed but the heroics of the crew of the Troubadour spread throughout the Federation. Not only were they the first Federation ship Nero encountered after destroying a fleet of Klingon ships, but the crew managed to warn the Federation they were heading into a trap at Vulcan at great personal cost.

Uhura nods.

"I'll make this my top priority," assures Scotty before going off to yell at some crewmen.

* * *

McCoy isn't on board when the Enterprise departs. In fact he doesn't board the ship until a week later and in the middle of the night via shuttle craft. The crew is mostly unaware of his arrival until the next morning when he's in medbay to start the crew's annual physicals and make sure their medical files are up to date.

It takes one hour after the first round of physicals are done for word to spread like wildfire that their new CMO has finally arrived.

* * *

Leonard takes lunch in the crew mess hall to escape sickbay for a moment but eats all other meals in his cabin. He makes no efforts to socialize with the crew or other officers at meals or after shift and sticks straight to the point during staff meetings before leaving as soon as they're concluded. It only serves to turn the rumor mill even more.

"He never comes sit with us," laments Chekov, about three weeks in. He looks dejectedly at McCoy's turned back a few tables over like he personally has been forced to sit in the corner.

"He's probably busy and wants to eat quickly so he can spend time with his daughter," surmises Uhura, tired of the McCoy gossip game. The rest of the senior staff get along like a house on fire; if McCoy doesn't or won't be a part of that, it's on him.

"I heard they had the corridors cleared when they came aboard, and it wasn't his daughter with him," says Sulu salaciously.

That piques Uhura's attention. She's pretty sure the daughter McCoy used to talk about started with a J. Joan or Jolene perhaps? It certainly couldn't be his ex wife. It would be a cold day in hell before those two could be civil in the same room together from what she can remember. Did Leonard have another child since the academy? "Are you sure?"

"I heard they were wearing a hoodie with it pulled over their face but it was diffidently an adult male. Nobody's seen him since," says Sulu with flourish, like he's telling a ghost story to green cadets.

"Nobody stays in their quarters for three weeks," adds Scotty in disbelief.

"Maybe the doc has a boy toy and we should see if he needs rescuing," chuckles Sulu, stabbing at a potato.

"Rescue your damn self," mutters McCoy as he walks past to take his tray back to reclamation before returning to sickbay for the rest of his shift. The table goes silent and stays in contemplative silence for the rest of lunch.

* * *

It's an adjustment, Leonard reminds himself. There's no molecular difference between recycled ship air and planet air and yet they're different. This is a new routine in a new place with new people but home was once like that too; it's the same, yet different. Though back on the farm there were nice wide fields to put between Jim and the idiots. He can't help but feel like maybe this was a mistake.

"Damn it Jim!" cries Leonard, stubbing his toes on a foot stool that has no business being at the door, especially if Jim's going to sit in the dark. This isn't how he wanted to return to his quarters. "Computer, lights," he orders

The furniture has been rearranged around the living room, mostly in a jumble to clear out the center of room. Today's already been tedious, he's not sure he has the patience for whatever this is. Honestly, if Jim's having a meltdown right now, it's all the sign Leonard needs to pull the plug on this half baked idea of serving on a ship.

"Oh you're home," says Jim, sauntering out of the kitchen with a picnic basket in hand and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. He walks to the center of the room where he has a red and white checkered blanket laid out in front of the giant window.

"What's going on here?" asks Leonard more curious now than irritated.

"I thought we could have a picnic to celebrate your position as CMO of the Enterprise. You've been so busy getting things sorted in medical and us settling in lately, that we haven't actually taken a moment for this. I thought it would be nice," says Jim. There's hope in Jim's eyes like he's not sure if he's brought it up at the right time or not. He's familiar with each one of Leonard's scowls and he's not sure if this one is directed at him or just the after effect of some poor bastard that landed in sick bay for something preventable.

Jim starts to second guess himself. He sways slightly on his feet not sure if he should take the basket back to the kitchen or soldier on. "You look like you've had a rough day," he concludes, leaning more towards the kitchen. Today's not the day for this.

Leonard walks over and grabs Jim by the wrist, stopping him from retreating. "I was, until now." It's moments like this that Leonard lives to get lost in: the feel of Jim in his arms, the smell of his hair, the slow rhythm of his breathing as he nestles his head against Leonard's chest.

"Let's sit down," says Jim, the words muffled in Leonard's tunic. Leonard takes the basket and bottle of wine so Jim doesn't have to struggle with them as he lowers himself down. His limp isn't as horrible as it was. Being stuck on a shuttle for seven hours caused the muscles to cramp up for days limiting Jim's mobility even more than usual.

Once settled, he hands the basket back to Jim who begins pulling out and arranging its contents. Leonard turns the wine bottle over in his hands as he sits down next to Jim.

"It's synthehol," assures Jim as though he can read Leonard's mind. Leonard smiles, handing the bottle over like he never had any doubt. It kills Jim a little that there will always be that flicker of suspicion and worry that things will spiral down that path again.

Leonard curls up behind Jim as he takes out the glasses from the basket and pops the cork. He's not a wine person by nature, preferring the harder, well aged stuff, but drinking whisky out of a champagne glass isn't all that sexy. Whatever Jim's found to drink, it's blue like cotton candy and just as sweet.

"I made your favorite, peach cobbler. Just like mom used to make," hums Jim leaning back into Leonard so he can take in the expanse of stars.

"Your mom or my mom?" asks Leonard, cautiously. Jim looks like some play-doh mash up of amusement and irritation. Leonard loves that look. "Your mom was a nice lady and all," he concedes, "but a horrible cook."

Jim slaps him lightly on the shoulder, but doesn't argue. He's only got a handful of recipes that he can make from scratch and most of those were, easy to make when hung-over, comfort foods. Kirks aren't known for shining in the kitchen. Leonard not only has the wherewithal to make a three course meal by hand but the talent to make breads and pastries if he's feeling domestic. His father contributed to cutting edge medicine but Mrs McCoy was a surgeon in the kitchen.

They fall asleep there, on floor after desert. Leonard's not surprised. Jim sleeps better on a ship if he can see the stars.

They couldn't see the stars in the hold of Nero's ship.

* * *

"Did McCoy bring his daughter aboard?" asks Uhura, casually at dinner one night. Spock broke things off between them to honor his duty to the Vulcan race and take a Vulcan wife since there are so few Vulcan left. While she was angry about the decision for a long time, once the hurt melted away, she could see Spock's reasoning behind the decision, even if she still didn't agree with it. They fell into a platonic relationship, her feelings never completely going away and based on the loneliness in Spock, she suspects if logic wasn't a factor, he would have changed his mind. It doesn't hurt in getting favoritism and special privileges when you're close friends with the Captain.

"No," is all Spock says. Uhura doesn't miss this part of the relationship- the pulling teeth to get information.

"Then who did he bring with him?" she presses.

"I believe it is his brother."

"Leonard doesn't have a brother," she counters. He doesn't have living parents, any siblings or any other children than Joanna- she checked.

Spock looks thoughtful for a moment. "He agreed he was Dr McCoy's brother. I saw no reason to doubt him. Has he done something wrong?" asks Spock, concerned.

"No. The crew is talking, that's all. It happens when someone is smuggled on board and then never seen."

"The doctor said Jim would most likely stay in their quarters."

Uhura's fork clangs against her plate. "Jim?" she asks. It's not a name she's heard in a long time.

"Do you know Jim McCoy?" asks Spock, unsure if the look of surprise on Uhura's face is positive or not.

"I might have once," she says, then changes the subject to Spock's day. Clearly she has to do some more digging but she's not going to compromise Spock's position to do it. She has other sources.


	3. Chapter 3

Leonard losses the uniform top the second he enters their quarters. It's not even that this rendition of the uniform is that uncomfortable, anything is more comfortable than the cadet reds, but the reminder of what could have been makes it itch and pull tight in a way Leonard can't describe. It's been a long day with more 'emergencies' than he's become accustomed to over the last five years. Clearly officers fresh from the academy are still a little short on brain cells and balance, having had to treat five sprains, four cuts, six burns and one broken arm that came with a vague story that Leonard doesn't want to look too closely at. Nothing serious; just tedious work that requires a mountain of paperwork.

Jim's camped out on the couch under a mountain of blankets in front of the large viewing window, poking away at a PADD. It immediately revives Leonard and perks him up. Jim's not a potted plant that's going to die if Leonard's away at work, but it just makes him feel better to lay eyes on the kid and know things are copasetic. He places a kiss on the top of Jim's mop head as he passes by to change out of his uniform pants. "You can raise the temperature if you're cold. We have the technology," says Leonard.

"Not cold," says Jim absently, too invested in whatever he's doing on the PADD to really give Leonard his attention. "It's my blanket fort," he says as Leonard returns to the living room.

"You gonna let me in or do I need a password or something?" asks Leonard.

"There's always room for you," assures Jim lifting his legs up for Leonard to sit down.

Leonard pushes the blankets out of the way and let's Jim prop his leg in his lap. He stares out the large windows at the vast scape of stars passing by, mindlessly curling Jim's bangs through his fingertips. It took awhile to get used to Jim letting his hair flop in his face. He's not sure if it's a remnant of when Jim gave up or if it's strictly to hide the scar that now mars his boyish good looks. Leonard stopped seeing it long ago but he doesn't miss the way other people openly stare or go out of their way to look anywhere but at Jim.

"What are you working on?"

"I got the computer to give me access to the star charts for the next quadrant of space we're going to be passing through. I'm plotting the course I would take if I got to call the shots," explains Jim, thoroughly invested in his work.

"Got the computer?" That's all Leonard needs is to have the hobgoblin haul him in for a reprimand about Jim hacking the computer to get classified charts.

"It's not as hard as it should be," criticises Jim, like a child placing the blame on an adult for not making getting into trouble more difficult.

"I don't care if it's child's play. We've talked about this. You can't break into secure systems," lectures Leonard. And god he's getting tired of having to go over the rules.

"But..."

"No buts, Jim. If you want the charts I can make a formal request for them but you can't create security breaches like this."

"Fine!" retorts Jim, getting up and throwing the PADD at Leonard. He storms off to the bedroom in a huff. All that's missing is the slamming of the bedroom door. Leonard's surprised he hasn't reprogrammed the computer to let him do that yet.

He picks up the PADD from where it missed his head and collided with the wall. There's a crack in the screen but the display still comes up. He's a doctor not a navigator though he managed to pass the basics back at the academy. The trajectory Jim's planned out looks good but Jim's IQ and skill have never been the problem.

* * *

_'_ _Mayday. Mayday. Starfleet, this is the USS Troubadour requesting immediate assistance. We're being attacked by an unidentified Romulan ship.'_

* * *

Leonard looks up abruptly as Uhura enters his office unannounced and uninvited. "What can I do for you Lieutenant?" he asks, every bit of irritation he's feeling coloring his words.

"Jim McCoy? Is that really Jim Kirk that you smuggled onboard?" she says, direct and straight to the point. Jim Kirk was an over confident, womanizing trouble maker with a capital T. Spock already has all eyes of him being the first Vulcan to take command, of the flag ship no less, he doesn't need the type of trouble and disorder that follows Kirk around. She's always liked Leonard but she's protective of Spock and has to be sure nothing is going to derail all that he has achieved.

"First of all," says Leonard, affronted, "nice to see you too, Nyota. Second, I didn't smuggle anyone on board. Out of everyone I thought you'd be the last to give into ship's gossip."

She doesn't flinch under his look of disappointment. She's stared down a logical Vulcan before; she can stare down one Leonard McCoy. "Is is Kirk?"

Leonard takes a long breath, looking resigned. "Yeah," he sighs. "Jim McCoy is probably better known to you as James T Kirk."

"Why hide it?" presses Uhura like a seasoned interrogator. "What's his game? I thought he was out of Starfleet?"

"I wasn't tryin' to hide anything. Jim took my last name."

"To pretend to be your brother?" she accuses.

"My brother?" asks Leonard, looking confused. "Who said Jim was my brother?"

She crosses her arms. "That's what he told Spock."

"Why would he... never mind. Jim's not my brother, he's my damn husband," says Leonard raising his left hand to show off a ring on his last finger. "He uses my last name so he doesn't have to use his. He doesn't need or want the attention the Kirk name brings."

"Wrong finger," she points out. She's read Leonard's file inside and out; there is no spouse listed only one dependant. "And since when does James Kirk not want attention?"

Leonard lowers his hand, his right absently twirling the ring around his pinky finger. "It's complicated. Most things with Jim are... complicated." He slumps a little in his chair. "He doesn't want attention, not anymore. Not since Nero." Leonard's eyes start to glisten with unshed tears.

Uhura's starting to feel like a bit of a bully, but she's fiercely protective of her family, which includes most of the senior officers on this ship. Everyone's heard some version about the first Federation ship Nero encountered before the attack on Vulcan. Whatever the version, they all end with Kirk being kicked out of Starfleet for one reason or another soon after Nero's defeat.

"Please don't tell anyone it's Kirk," begs Leonard. "Jim's not who you remember. That kind of attention from the crew, it'll break him. He can't handle people, hell, most situations. He just needs to be left alone. Please."

Uhura takes a seat, her voice taking on a softer tone, "People will find out eventually. Few secrets are safe on a starship, especially when the mystery is already gaining attention." She almost looks apologetic. She and Leonard got along fine at the academy, her and Jim on the other hand...

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there but just not today."

Uhura leaves feeling something she never thought she'd feel for Jim: sympathy. Obviously she was quick to believe the stories of Jim being a reckless idiot and endangering people that lead to his dismissal a little too quickly. Leonard wouldn't beg for someone like that. It will take some digging but she's determined to get to the bottom of what really happened to one Jim Kirk after the academy.

* * *

Scotty's not used to a lot of tourists in his department apart from the odd delegate that's sent to see the engines and fake interest in his lovely lady for the sake of peace. Medical only pays a visit if it's life or death so it's a surprise to find the doctor wandering around the engine room. If one of those babies that have been posing as engineer graduates has dropped something on their toes again, Scotty's going to petition the Captain to start a daycare center and drop the whole lot of them off there.

"Are ye lost doctor?" he shouts over the purr of the engines as he descends from one of the catwalks.

McCoy turns around looking relieved. "Actually, I was looking for you."

"Here I am, at yer service."

McCoy holds out an older PADD with a horrifically cracked screen, looking rather sheepish. Scotty looks at it skeptically. Starfleet PADDs are made to take a beating. No use having the things if one drop during a firefight finishes them off. "I'm told you're a miracle worker. I'm hoping you can fix it."

"It would be easier to put in a requisition for another one. I'm sure there are a couple newer ones in storage and it takes but a lick to replicate one," says Scotty inspecting the PADD. It's about seven years old now, ancient in tech standards. The thing is hardly worth the material it's made from anymore.

"It has sentimental value," offers McCoy.

Scotty doesn't look quite convinced. "I can replace the screen and refit the guts to make it faster and with more storage."

"No!" sputters Leonard. "It has to be exactly the same except for the screen. No upgrades, no program changes and please don't look at whatever is on there."

"Worried I'll find your stash of naughty vids doctor?" jokes Scotty.

"If only," mutters Leonard. Revealing some porn collection to the crew would be a cake walk compared to dealing with Jim's paranoia if he thought someone was messing with one of his PADDs. Just getting the screen fixed is going to cause a few bad days but since he only trusts devices he had at the academy to not be riddled with surveillance and the like, Jim's quickly running out of PADDs that have survived his meltdowns over the years.

"I'll have it fixed up in a couple of days and drop it off at your quarters," vows the Scotsman.

"That's alright. Just message me and I'll come get it from you. No need to go to my quarters. And thank you Scotty, I appreciate it."

* * *

The thing about exploring uncharted space that no one tells you, is there are long stretches of nothing. Planets and anomalies are big question marks just floating out in space and finding them is like throwing a dart in the dark. It's mostly crunching data to looking for the tell tale signs that something is just around the corner, otherwise it's long shifts stuck in limbo until that beautiful sight of something pops up in the view screen. They're in that vast stretch of nameless stars now and the most interesting part of the day is lunch.

Uhura's the last to join the table of their little quartet and the conversation is already in full swing. "What are we talking about today, boys?"

"Chekov was just telling us about astrometrics," informs Sulu.

"That sounds exciting," says Uhura rolling her eyes. If they'd found anything worth looking at, the whole ship would be a buzz, so whatever's gotten Chekov's attention must be some technical breakthrough that gets navigators and astrophysicists excited.

"Dr McCoy has a standing reservation in the lab for zero three hundred hours. The lab is to be cleared fifteen minutes before and must stay empty for fifteen minutes after," says Chekov.

"Are there a lot of people booking the lab for private use in the middle of the night?" asks Uhura, not seeing the issue yet.

"Just insomniacs and people on gamma shift trying to finish research," injects Sulu.

"So..."

"It is not Dr McCoy going in there at night, rather the mystery man," Chekov clarifies.

"It's a little weird, lassie. Most people are asleep unless on shift and this guy isn't technically part of the crew," adds Scotty.

"It's probably the only time he can access the lab for non official business. And just because it's zero three hundred ship time doesn't mean it's not afternoon where he's from," suggests Uhura, keeping her gaze directed on her salad. It is odd behaviour, which makes the things she's heard about Jim seem more likely to be true than she first thought. She hates lying, even if it's by omission and especially to cover Kirk's ass but she doesn't have it in her to break Leonard's trust without good cause.

Sulu sits up straighter. "You know something," he accuses.

Uhura can feel all eyes lock on her. If she doesn't feed the wolves something they're going to keep circling Leonard and Jim until they find an opening. "He's McCoy's partner. Jim McCoy is Leonard's husband, so you can all stop speculating and move on."

"Since when do they allow family members to accompany officers on exploration vessels?" asks Sulu. He's not sure which side he falls on in regards to the subject. Missing Ben and their daughter tears him up while he's on assignment but he's not sure he wants to take the chance if something happens that his family will be caught up in it. He made the decision to risk his life for the Federation, his daughter didn't.

"Why don't we ever see him or them together?" adds Scotty.

"He has agoraphobia and you three are the cause of it," answers Uhura with an evil grin. "We're done talking about it and tell your sources they're done talking about it too," she threatens. The fear of her wrath won't hold the crew for long but it will slow them down and give Leonard and Jim a little space.

* * *

There are eighty-six black marble tiles comprising the floor space in the hallway outside the court room. Five of them have scuff marks on them. Leonard's considering polishing them just for the sake of having something to focus on other than the agonizing wait.

He should be in there. A court marshal behind closed doors can't be a good thing, especially when it's taking this long. A slap on the wrist doesn't require this much time. And a slap on the wrist is the best they can hope for. There's no arguing the facts, that Jim endangered lives.

Extenuating circumstances be damned when you have to explain to some family why their loved one isn't coming home. They were so close to that this time. Leonard has a foreboding feeling deep in his gut that Starfleet won't be able to look past this incident- even for its golden hero.

"Any news yet?" asks Pike as his sits down next to Leonard on the old worn leather bench.

Leonard shakes his head. The silence has been killing him. At least if he could sit in chambers with Jim he'd have some clue as to the mood the assembled council was in. He should be there when they reveal their decision, it's Leonard's life too.

"I thought you were off world?" Pike is probably Jim's last ally within Starfleet command. If he had been on the panel there might be a chance that Jim's command wouldn't completely be in jeopardy.

"I was," says Pike, turning his uniform hat over in his hands. "As captain it's within my prerogative to bring my ship to whatever port I believe is best equipped to handle repairs." They both know there's nothing wrong with the Enterprise.

"Thanks. He'll appreciate you being here," says McCoy.

"Whatever happens, it will be alright," Pike assures.

Leonard desperately wants to believe that but he knows too much and has seen too much to believe in happy endings anymore. If Jim loses command, it will break him, probably worse than Nero did.

"There are things beyond Starfleet," continues Pike.

"Says the career captain," snaps McCoy. "Tell me, if I hadn't performed that surgery and you lost the ability to walk, would you still be happy with your life?"

"Probably not," concedes Pike, "but Jim has something I've never had."

"What's that?"

"He has you."

Leonard's not sure that's enough in the grand scheme of things.

The door finally opens and Jim walks out. They rise to their feet. Leonard searches for any hint about the proceedings but Jim is an unusually blank slate. There's nothing but disbelief coloring Jim's features.

"Well?" asks Leonard unable to stand the nothingness he's getting from Jim.

"I'm done," says Jim, hollow and empty. "They took it away from me. I'm out of Starfleet." His blue eyes glass over in the first sign of emotion he's shown since the proceedings started. Starfleet just took his life and showed him the door.

Leonard feels like he's in freefall. His future is in doubt now too and he feels like he has nothing to hang onto as he tries to keep Jim from drowning. How's he supposed to serve on a ship when Jim can't follow? It's been him following Jim since that fateful shuttle ride out of Riverside. Where's he supposed to lead them?

Leonard steps forward to wrap his arms around Jim and try and hold all Jim's pieces together but Jim takes a giant step back. "I just... I can't right now, Bones. I need to be alone," he says before turning and walking numbly away.

Leonard wants to die a little as he watches Jim's back.

"I'm done too," he says, the words flying out of his mouth.

"Are you sure?" asks Pike. "You should probably take some time to think about it. I can talk to the brass, see if there's something that can be done."

They could fight this. Pike's that good that they might even get Jim back in a uniform and on a ship but it's not going to be what Jim had. Leonard's not sure how many times he can go through this. They can't take many more losses. Maybe it's selfish to not try, to just take the out and try and build something simple somewhere; Jim's always been a fighter. Leonard's the one that doesn't have it in him. He can't watch Jim be disappointed anymore.

"No, says Leonard. "If they don't want him, then I don't want them. He was good enough to save their collective asses but they wash their hands of him the second things get rough. I'm done." He knows it's more complicated than that. Bigger picture and all that but Leonard only has enough in him to care about Jim right now. The rest of the universe will just have to fend for itself. "I won't change my mind."

It's been two years since Nero took their carefully planned lives and torpedoed them. Rescue was supposed to mean they could rebuild and reclaim their lives. Everything is still slipping through their fingers though.


	4. Chapter 4

Scotty whistles as he makes his way through the corridor. He's had the tune stuck in his head all day long and he can't quite think of the words that go along with it. It's driving him mad.

He's been behind schedule all day thanks to an overly eager ensign who thought he was going to revolutionize warp drive but instead, fried several circuit relays. McCoy's PADD's all fixed but in all the craziness he forgot to message the doctor to come get it today. With alpha shift long over, McCoy has to be back at his quarters and probably getting ready to turn in by now.

Their cabins aren't that far apart and the doctor seemed to want the PADD as soon as possible, so it couldn't _really_ hurt if Scotty just drops it off. Maybe he can invite the couple out for a drink one night? At the very least he can catch a glimpse of their mysterious stranger for himself and gain some insight on exactly what the good doctor is hiding away.

He presses the computerized door bell and waits.

And waits.

He's just about to conclude that they've either gone to bed or gone out for the evening when the door slides open. He stands there gaping, unsure what to say when he realizes it's not McCoy that answered. There's a little disappointment that the guy doesn't have sixteen eyes and three heads as his mind processes the entirely regular looking person before him.

"What?" snaps the blond, sticking his head out the door to look up and down the corridor.

"Ummm," answers Scotty, not sure what to make of the man standing before him or the hostility. He holds up the PADD and points to it. "I fixed McCoy's PADD?"

"Thanks," says the blond snatching it out of his hand and tapping it on.

"You must be Jim," says Scotty regaining his wherewithal and extending his hand. The young man doesn't take it, just starts tapping away at the PADD like he's forgotten Scotty's even there or an inconvenience that will disappear if ignored.

"I thought you could use the extra computing power and memory and I added a program too," shares Scotty, reaching over to point out the new features he added. He knows he was asked not to but sometimes you don't know what you're missing until you get something new. He also can't help himself.

Jim steps back quickly letting the door slide shut in Scotty's face without so much as a word leaving the engineer standing there awkwardly. So much for trying to be friendly.

* * *

A hypothesis has been nagging Spock all night. It's disrupted his meditation and since science waits for no one, he might as well test it out. The start of his day is only two and a half hours away anyways.

The corridors are dimly lit to simulate night and there's a calm silence that's settled over the ship as she runs on a minimal gamma shift. The only crewmen up and about are those on duty, so it takes Spock a moment to conclude who is wandering the corridor at this hour.

He hasn't had an encounter with Jim McCoy since picking up the shuttle Leonard requested so as he and Jim wouldn't have to deal with the chaos that happens during launch. He has heard other crewmen recount encounters with the civilian McCoy that has left a lot to be desired.

While Spock has no desire to 'make friends' as it were, with his crew, he has made a point to become familiar with each soul that is willing to give their life on his orders. Jim has been the exception until now.

There aren't many places to go on this level; mostly science labs that Jim has shown no inclination towards, storage and weapons lockers which he has no access to and astrometrics, which Jim has a standing reservation for and frequents regularly. It doesn't explain why he appears to look lost now.

There's confusion on his face as he paces up and down the corridor, and walking in circles at each junction. He's looking frantically around like he's lost his way in the maze of the ship.

"Can I help direct you somewhere?" asks Spock, coming up behind Jim.

Jim flinches noticeably, his hand wrapping tight around his cane as though bracing a weapon. He turns sharply, standing up as straight as his leg will allow and pins a scrutinizing death glare on Spock. "Do I look like I need help?"

There's bitterness and accusation in Jim's tone that suggest he doesn't believe he does but Spock has been watching him and come to the conclusion that he must. "Yes."

Jim softens a little. His hand gripping the cane never relaxes. A lost look washes over him as he looks down the corridor. "I'm just looking for... I can't seem to find astrometrics."

"It is in the same place," assures Spock, slightly confused at Jim's confession. One of McCoy's stipulations to joining was that Jim be allowed a specified block of time in astrometrics alone, a time that Jim has made repetitive and frequent use of.

He's about to ask if Jim is in need of medical attention when Jim snaps, "Fuck off then!"

It's a clear act of insubordination. Since Jim is not technically apart of Starfleet, there is no standard form of discipline for such an incident. Spock weighs his options. He'll try and speak with McCoy later. "Room c-469," offers Spock. Jim just stares blankly. "On the left."

"Right." Jim still doesn't seem inclined to move.

Spock raises an eyebrow. Humans are often curious, but Jim is especially so. "Do you require assistance getting there?" he inquires. Perhaps Jim is physically incapable of making his way there right now.

The scowl returns to Jim's face sending the lost look retreating to the dark shadows of his features. "I don't need your fucking help," he snaps, turning in the right direction. "I'm not a god damn invalid or a circus freak," he adds as he starts to amble towards the lab. He walks away with purpose and certainty, which was missing when Spock first laid eyes on him tonight.

"Curious," mumbles Spock, before heading towards one of the science labs.

* * *

Sulu can't hide the bounce in his step. It doesn't matter that it's two in the morning; he'd be up at any time for this. It's been far too long since he's heard his daughter's voice and like a drug, he's going through withdrawal. Uhura and Scotty managed to work some magic and correlate a time that Sulu could set up a personal communication with home by bouncing the signal off some old relay bacons, otherwise he'd have to wait another two weeks before the ship is in proper range to allow for personal communications to be sent.

He grabs his PADD and heads to one of the crew dining rooms to grab a plate of cookies and milk. It's tradition: to share a meal and talk about all the things that did or are going to happen in the day. Being light years away, means he has to miss most meals but when he gets the chance to call home, he and Demora share a plate of cookies, no matter the time. Ben's never enthusiastic about cookies before breakfast, but who can say no to tradition and their sweet, little girl with big, heart melting, brown eyes.

He arranges his plate and glass and props up his PADD. The window on screen pops open and there's Demora's smiling face. "Morning, daddy," she greets with the biggest smile.

It makes Sulu weak in the knees. "Morning, sweetheart," he replies while he catalogues every curve of her face and every slight change in her appearance that has occurred since the Enterprise left orbit. Ben waves in the background as he tirelessly works to get breakfast cooked and Demora's backpack ready for school.

"I lost a tooth," she says, pulling her cheeks wide apart to show off the new gap she's sporting.

"Look at that." Sulu can feel himself beaming at the excitement his daughter has for another milestone in her life but underneath there's a small twinge of disappointment that he missed being there in person.

"It was wobbly and got stuck in my apple and popped right out. Papa says if I put it under my pillow a fairy will come and give me toys. Is it true?"

"I guess there's only one way to find out. You'll have to put it under your pillow and report back your findings."

"I hope the fairy... leaves..." The screen flickers and freezes before gong black.

"No, no, no," mutters Sulu, frantically entering codes and troubleshooting options to re-establish the link.

The bright orange words 'lost signal' are a dagger in the heart.

"Damn it!" snaps Sulu, slamming his fists down against the table. There's never enough time with his little girl but they barely said hello this time. It's certainly not enough to hold him over for another two weeks when the ship is in a better position.

"You can get that signal back you know," say Jim stopping next to Sulu's table, coffee mug and plate in hand with his cane hooked over his arm.

There isn't another soul in the dining room and frankly, Sulu thought he was completely alone. He's not entirely sure he's not hallucinating this encounter, except that there is only one person aboard the ship that he hasn't seen before. This must be the mysterious Jim McCoy. "Ummm, how?" he asks, slightly thrown by the unexpected company.

Jim looks like he's going to tell Sulu, but then thinks better of it. "Just let me," he says grabbing the PADD. He frantically taps away at it so fast Sulu can't quite tell what he's doing but there's diffidently a few sub routines and ship's programs he shouldn't have access to being played with.

The picture pops back up. "Daddy's back," cheers Demora with the connection restored.

"How'd you do that?" whispers Sulu.

Jim shrugs and says "You learn some tricks trying to foil a Romulan plot to destroy Earth while a prisoner on their ship," causally like it's an everyday thing. He takes a seat opposite Sulu so he's behind the PADD and not on video with him, and snatches a cookie off Sulu's plate. He sits there quietly eating his pie while Sulu continues his conversation with his daughter.

"She's cute," Jim says when Sulu's finally ends his call. "They always are at that age. Let me guess, horses and princesses?"

Sulu nods. It's a little weird sitting across from someone who's been the topic of conversation for weeks but no one had anything concrete to say about and have them ask about his daughter's interests.

"Joanna liked horses and princesses at that age."

"You have a kid?" Sulu's kind of surprised, though he's not sure why. He knows very little about the doctor and even less about his supposed husband. It seems unfair to have a notion in his mind as to whether he would have a kid or not.

"God no. That would be negligent on someone's part," insists Jim, with a laugh. "Bones... Leonard, has a daughter. I'm her Uncle Jim," he says with a bright beaming grin. "Uncles are cooler than parents anyways. All the fun none of the rules."

Sulu gives Jim a half smile, the one that knows exactly what it's like to spoil someone else's child but has since learned the error of loading up a child with sugar and excitement from experiencing it as a parent. "How old is she?"

"Old enough that she's arguing the merits of the practicality of moving in with her boyfriend while she attends university in the fall." There's a wistful look in Jim's eye as he remembers what it's like to be that young with the whole universe open to you.

"Definitely not the princess and pony phase." Sulu's already having nightmares about that phase and it's still over a decade away.

They both look towards the door as it hisses open. Leonard stumbles in sleepily, rubbing his eyes. His hair is mussed up and his uniform shirt slightly askew like he hastily threw it on with little concern for appearances.

"One more and it's party," cheers Jim. It's extra boisterous in what was a quiet space. "Evening, Bones. Or perhaps morning?"

"Jim what are you doing?" asks Leonard around a yawn. Jim had said he was staying in tonight, so imagine his surprise when he rolled over to find Jim's side of the bed empty, the sheet cold and even the astrometrics lab empty.

Jim leans forward across the table closer to Sulu and whispers conspiratorially, "I was never here," waving his hands like a magician making someone disappear. He picks up his cane and strolls over to Leonard, wrapping his free arm around the doctor's waist. "I miss the farm. Woke up and I had this weird craving for bacon and eggs," he says as the pair heads back to their quarters.

"You're a sadist," huffs Leonard.


	5. Chapter 5

_'_ _Troubadour to Starfleet Command- evacuation order has been given.'_

_'_ _Most of the crew are dead, the remaining crew are evacuating the ship. Please send help'_

* * *

Leonard forgot how good it feels to directly save a life in the middle of an emergency. All the adrenaline pushing him through the chaos as his instincts take over and he pulls a poor soul back from the brink of death; he didn't have that in the classroom. He'd never wish for his skills to be needed by anyone ever, but the feeling of knowing they're going to live to see tomorrow is euphoric. Despite the small explosion in science lab eight, which brought four people- one critical, to sickbay, today was a good day; they managed to save Ensign Brooks's life.

Leonard's three hours late because of surgery and his famished stomach isn't inclined to let him forget it. He can't wait to get back to his quarters and see Jim. He's still energized so maybe he can persuade Jim into doing something tonight.

"Honey, I'm home," enthuses Leonard as he walks in the door only to be greeted by silence. He isn't concerned; sometimes Jim gets so focused on something the rest of the world ceases to exist. He'll just work on dinner and maybe Jim will surface.

Their quarters fills with the delicious aroma of lasagna and garlic bread but still no sign of life from Jim. Leonard sets the table then heads to the living room to track down his husband.

Jim's blanket fort which has become a permanent fixture in front of the viewing window is empty. Jim doesn't leave their quarters during alpha shift at all and he isn't willing to go out during beta shift unless necessary and only then if Leonard agrees to come with him, so he has to be in their quarters somewhere. He must be in the bedroom. Hopefully he decided to get some sleep in an actual bed and not his blanket fort which he's taken to doing lately.

Leonard makes it to the other side of the couch when he realizes his good mood is going to come crashing down. Tatters of his uniform shirts create a trail from the living room to the bedroom.

The door to the bedroom slides open. Each second it takes is a painful shard of dread piercing Leonard's heart. His brain envisions every horrible soul crushing scenario that could await him just beyond those doors and none of them are anything he wants to experience again.

The relief of seeing Jim in one piece almost brings Leonard to his knees.

They can weather whatever this is, what's important is that they're together to do it.

Jim's barricaded himself in the corner of the room; the mattress flopped on the floor between the dressers and the wall to deter anyone trying to approach him. He doesn't acknowledge Leonard, just sits in the corner muttering to himself as he continues to rip apart Leonard's uniform shirts.

"Jim?"

Leonard slowly climbs over Jim's obstacle course, careful not to spook him should he realize he isn't alone anymore. He sits on the floor, cross legged about a foot and a half away from Jim; close, but not close enough to make Jim feel cornered.

He can finally make out Jim's quiet litany. "Can't show rank. That's what he looks for. They'll take the highest ranking officer. You can't have Bones."

Leonard feels like he's been used as a punching bag by a Klingon. His heart starts to speed up as he's assaulted by the bone seeping cold and stale rotting smell of Nero's ship. It kills him that this is where Jim goes. The words of warning make Leonard want to throw up.

Jim's not trying to destroy his uniform shirts in a fit of rage or in protest. He isn't trying to destroy the shirts at all, rather he's trying to remove the rank insignia on the sleeves that prove Leonard holds the rank of Lieutenant Commander. A rank that comes with protocol, seniority and classified information that the enemies of the Federation would be after- the rank held by the first officer of the USS Troubadour when Nero took him and tortured him to death.

"Jim?" he tries again, gently placing his hand on top of Jim's.

Jim stops pulling the silver stripe off the sleeve. He stills but doesn't look up from his work.

Leonard tugs the shirt from Jim's grip. Jim holds tight for a second but then lets it go without much of a fight. He tosses the ruined shirt over his shoulder. "You're not on Nero's ship. He's dead and nobody is going to take me from you. You survived Jim. We survived."

Jim still doesn't look up. He's weaving his thumbs through his fingers now that he doesn't have a shirt to modify. His shoulders droop at the sound of Leonard's voice and his tension begins to fade along with the memories.

"Can you tell me where we are?" asks Leonard.

Jim nods his head, his long bangs bouncing along his scar.

Leonard sits silently. He'll sit as long as it takes. Rushing things will only lead to a bigger and messier break down.

"USS Enterprise," says Jim, brokenly.

"And I'm right here," adds Leonard, softly.

"And you're right here," Jim repeats dutifully. He finally looks up meeting Leonard's gaze; bright blue eyes glossed over with tears that pool down his face. "Bones?"

"I'm right here," whispers Leonard, scrambling to sit right next to Jim. He pulls Jim close, wrapping his arms tightly around his husband.

"You were late. You were late and there are spying programs on my PADD they thought I wouldn't notice and... I thought..."

"I know what you thought." Leonard places a kiss on the top of Jim's head. That's not going to happen, Jim."

They sit like that for hours, drinking each other in.

"You shouldn't display your rank like that. It makes you a high value target," informs Jim, like his point is still valid even if his methods are not.

"I'm a doctor, Jim. I don't have any information of any value in that field. Nobody is coming for an old county doctor. They'll just be disappointed if they take me."

"I've never been disappointed with you."

* * *

"Captain, I have your secure channel to Admiral Pike," breaks the contemplative silence of Spock's ready room.

"Put him through," orders Spock. The comm. chirps as the communication officer complies from the bridge. The view screen on his desk comes to life with a barrage of bright florescent colors and what appears to be a party at a tropical resort unfolding in the background.

"This better be good," says Pike, turning the camera angle to frame him better as he removes his sunglasses.

"I apologise for interrupting your vacation, sir," starts Spock.

"Be less sorry and get to the point quickly. I have an activity scheduled in five minutes," informs Pike sternly. There's a fondness in his gaze that softens his tone.

"I have concerns about the crew," Spock states.

Pike leans back in his longue chair. The contemplative look he wears seems out of place against his tan skin and flower print shirt. "You've been in the chair for ten minutes. You've got to give them and you time," he says sagely. He remembers his first time a ship was all his; questioning every decision he made and fretting he was dropping the ball somewhere.

"I am concerned time will not fix this particular issue."

Pike smiles. "McCoy will warm up to you. The blistering bear act never goes away but it's how he shows he cares. You have to give it as good as you get it, Spock. Let the kids in the candy store but don't let them run it."

Spoke arches an eyebrow at the mention of McCoy's name. A compliment of over four hundred crew and Pike zeroed in on one. He's not sure he understands the metaphor either or the human need to use them but he has more pressing concerns to address in Pike's time limit. "It is not Dr McCoy, I'm calling about."

"What did Jim do?" asks Pike with a haunted shadow of a smile.

There are few humans that manage to pleasantly surprise Spock, Christopher Pike has the tendency to do it often. "You know about his companion?"

"How else do you think you managed to pull all the strings for McCoy to come aboard? It will do you and them both a world of good to be on the Enterprise."

Spock clearly hasn't given Pike's chess game the respect and consideration it deserves. "His limited interactions with the crew have not yielded the best results. I am worried about his erratic behaviour."

Pike's silent for a long time. Even the luxurious and vibrant island getaway isn't enough to temper the melancholy that takes hold. "The thing you have to understand about Jim, is he was on track to be one of the best and youngest captains Starfleet has ever produced. It was his bravery that saved Starfleet from Nero's attack and as a result, he was dealt a bad hand. What Nero did to him... the kid's never going to see a captain's chair or command of any kind, but I assure you he has the best interest of the ship at heart. He helped save Vulcan. At the very least you owe him a fair shake at adjusting to life aboard a ship again. "

Spock wishes he shared Pike's confidence but he has over four hundred other crewmen to consider not just one soul that Starfleet didn't see fit to keep within its ranks. "How do you know he will not become a danger to the crew? The other day he seemed to not know where he was and when I spoke to him, he became hostile."

"If you want to know the nuances of Jim's... personality, talk to McCoy. And read this." Pike taps at his PADD and a file from Starfleet appears on Spock's computer. Re: medical termination of James McCoy. "I can't tell you Jim's situation and general personality won't make him a pain in your ass, but I assure you, I wouldn't have put him there if I didn't think it would be beneficial for both of you."

* * *

Leonard should really be paying more attention to what he's doing, but he's more focused on watching Jim fiddle with the pictures on the wall. Jim's looking for bugs and other surveillance equipment. It's the middle ground between' losing his shit Jim' who's stuck on Nero's ship and 'here and present Jim.' Leonard's happy to ride out the middle ground, though it's a slippery slope to fall right back into full blown episode territory.

"Ouch!" cries Leonard, yanking his hand back and giving it a gentle shake.

"What happened?" asks Jim, looking concerned. There's a heightened sense of energy rolling off of him, like he's ready to spring into action against anything that would dare harm the man he loves.

"I poked my damn finger." Leonard holds it up to take a look at the damage. It's not really bleeding much, but damn it smarts. He can understand why man was compelled to advance beyond using a needle and thread.

Jim comes over and settles on the couch next to Leonard's recliner. "Doing what?"

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Sewing my stripes back on my shirt," he says like he doesn't know who to blame for this inconvenience.

Jim looks kind of guilty but one of his coping mechanisms is to not apologise for things he can't consciously remember deciding to do. This time it's deciding the rank on Leonard's uniform shirt is going to identify him as a high value target for interrogation. It's not the healthiest play to pretend it didn't happen but Leonard's willing to work with whatever helps get Jim back on even ground.

It's probably easier to request new ones but trying to explain why he needs all new uniform shirts invites more questions than he wants to answer. Besides it's better to save his requisitions for when the shirts are completely unsalvageable. Just in case Jim gets this idea again.

"Shouldn't you be good at that? You are a surgeon," accuses Jim.

Leonard tries not to be insulted. His hands are a key skill in his profession. Then again, he isn't splitting his attention between Jim and his patient during surgery. "Most of us don't use a needle and thread any more. It's become somewhat of a lost art. Good thing grandma insisted us kids have the basic skills."

Jim slides off the couch on to his knees and crawls over to kneel before Leonard. Taking Leonard's hand he turns it over to look at the tiny dot of blood Leonard managed to draw. "Shouldn't you use a kiss?"

"It's called a thimble. What you're talkin' 'bout is a metaphor from Peter Pan," says Leonard.

Jim shrugs. "Then I'll just kiss it better." He places a feather light kiss on the tip of Leonard's finger and then another on the back of his large, steady hand, as a form of apology for all the things Jim's unwilling to voice.

"That's also a misconception. If anything, a kiss is going to expose a wound to germs and then next thing ya know, my hand falls off," grumbles Leonard.

"Then we better put it to good use before that happens," says Jim suggestively, depositing Leonard's shirt and sewing kit on the floor and pulling Leonard out of the recliner and towards the bedroom.

* * *

"How come you don't invite any of your co workers over for dinner?" asks Jim. He's sprawled out like a starfish across the bed with his head pressed against Leonard's side. Leonard's on his back staring at the ceiling, lost in the rhythmic stroking of Jim's hair, yet he knows the kid's staring out the window watching the stars lazily pass by.

It's not the post-coital glow question he was expecting. It's not even a question he'd expect any other moment either. Jim's never really been keen on fraternizing with Leonard's colleagues and damn right unwilling to make any friends of his own. "Do you _want_ me to invite people over for dinner?"

Jim rolls on to his side and props himself up on his elbow so he can look Leonard in the eye. "It would be nice to know you're making friends," he says with mock concern, trying to emulate the apprehension a parent has as they send their child away to school for the first time.

Leonard snorts, reaching up and pulling the pillow out from under his head and smacking Jim with it. "Don't need friends. I got you."

Jim throws the pillow back at Leonard. "Seriously Leonard, you need some diversity."

Jim rarely calls him Leonard. It's a dead giveaway that they're either headed for a fight, or something is really bugging Jim. "I get diversity when I'm on shift. But if you're serious, I could see if Geoff and Christine are free," he offers.

Jim scrunches his face in distaste. "You're medical colleagues? Nah."

"Nah?"

"Sitting around listening to you geeks get your medical science on, isn't the stimulating dinner conversation I had in mind."

Clearly Jim has an agenda he's trying to work. Leonard should probably be a little terrified there's a scheme in the works but it's hard to deny Jim anything. "And just what colleagues did you have in mind?" he asks, leery of the answer

There's silence for a moment, like Jim's not sure if he should take his shot right now. "I saw Uhara's name on the crew manifest." Jim's taken the time to become familiar with every name on the manifest. If he's going to live with these people, he should know the basics. It doesn't hurt to check for any red flags for crewmen that might pose a threat later on. "Still haven't gotten that first name."

Leonard chuckles, soft and low. Those two have been locked in this game since day one. It's nice to know some things don't change, even when everything else seems to. "She hates you," reminds Leonard. Hate's probably a little strong but there's definitely hissing and spitting.

"I know," says Jim with a self satisfied, wicked grin. "It'll be great."


	6. Chapter 6

"Got a sec, Uhura?" calls Leonard as he jogs to catch up to her in the corridor. He was hoping to catch her on her way to lunch.

Uhura stops walking, turning as Leonard catches up to her. "What can I help you with?"she asks. The hostility from their first meeting has completely disappeared.

Leonard gestures her forward and they continue to walk down the corridor. No use taking up her personal time and making her cranky right off the bat. "Jim's got this fool idea in his head," he starts. It really is a stupid idea.

Uhura rolls her eyes. "That sounds familiar," she mutters. She was very familiar with Kirk's schemes and conquests back at the academy.

"He thinks I don't socialize enough," he continues, shaking his head like he can't see how Jim came to that conclusion.

"You don't." Leonard was never the social butterfly type, but she's glad she put in the effort to breach his solitude and get to know him all those years ago. She's always been surprised someone like Jim would take the effort to glob on to someone as reserved as Leonard.

Leonard frowns at her. His social life isn't the actual concern here, nor did he realize it was a consideration by the other crewmen. "He wants you to come to dinner."

Uhura stops dead in her tracks. "Me?" She must have misheard. She and Jim are volatile; like oil and water.

"He asked me to ask you specifically," he replies with a shrug like he doesn't get the joke either.

Uhura can think of a million things she'd rather do than socialize with Jim Kirk but Leonard looks like he's waiting to hear if his puppy is going to live or not. She's wanted to strangle Jim more times than she can count. Leonard however was always a faithful friend, helpful study partner and good listener back at the academy so there's no way she can say no and feel good about herself. She wouldn't mind getting to know Leonard again anyways.

She tilts her head up and silently asks the universe for infinite patience. "Alright. But if he doesn't behave himself, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

Leonard raises his right hand. "Best behaviour," he swears.

* * *

Captain Pike looks over Spock's report for the third time like it will somehow change the contents to a more favourable outcome. Medical is at a loss and the science department isn't able to offer any solutions either. It's not looking good.

If the Fenarri delegate dies before the peace treaty can be signed the whole Patellan solar system will be at war. No amount of negotiation or diplomacy on Pike's part is going to negate the ingrained belief in these cultures' superstitions. If this delegate dies it will be seen as a bad omen, and bad negotiations resulting in all parties believing it's a divine message to go to war. He needs a medical miracle.

There's one name that comes to mind. It's the name that's been on the top of his list since he experienced firsthand the skill this doctor possesses. Leonard McCoy. While it normally would seem like an impossible option, Pike's heard rumours that McCoy's back in service and holding a position on Starbase Four.

He checks the personnel records and sure enough, Dr McCoy is listed as part of the medical staff. He doesn't hesitate one second before contacting the starbase.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" asks McCoy, appearing on the monitor.

"I thought you retired from the fleet?" asks Pike because he's short on time and needs to get all the information about McCoy's situation as fast as possible. Last time he saw McCoy, the doctor was dead set on giving up his commission and walking away for good.

McCoy looks pained. "Circumstance change," he says bitterly.

Pike's had his fair share of ex's to know that look. He feels like a vulture about to feed on the still living carcass of a dying animal. "I'll cut to the chase. I have a medical emergency and so far my people are coming up short on a solution. It's some sort of parasite and if we don't find away to kill it soon, I'm going to have a war on my hands. The Enterprise has all the latest lab tech and resources it just needs a fresh set of eyes. I can put in a transfer request and have a shuttle ready for you by tomorrow if..."

"I can be ready to go in an hour," injects McCoy. He needs the busy work, anything to get his mind off of Jim.

"Yes?" checks Pike.

"Yes. You just recruited yourself a medical officer."

* * *

_Captain Macklyn to Starfleet Command_

_RE Troubadour rescue_

_The ship has been destroyed. No souls on board. The evacuation shuttles are nowhere to be found but no evidence they have been destroyed. It is believed that any survivors have been taken captive. Will begin recovery effort._

* * *

Leonard supposes as far as meetings with the Captain go, it could have been worse. For a Vulcan, Spock almost seemed understanding. Still, while he's used to Jim's quirks and runaway mouth, others are not. If they're going to live here on this ship, with these people, Leonard has to work at forming some middle ground.

Apparently Jim has been making an impression on the crew even though he goes out of his way to avoid interaction with them. He has a list of crewmen who have expressed concern about run ins with Jim. First on the list is Engineer Scott.

Leonard hasn't gone out of his way to endear himself to the crew either. Jim's all the family he needs and after a long shift in medbay, with Jim is the only place he wants to be. It doesn't leave a lot of time to go out, be social and get to know the crew on a personal level. Fortunately, he has a few tricks and hypos up his sleeve to convince the junior engineers that end up in sickbay to share the information they have on the Scotsman.

He presses the buzzer at Scotty's door.

The door slides open and Scotty's a little surprised to find the doctor standing there. "Evening Doc. Have something else you need me to take a look at?" he asks.

Leonard holds up a bottle. "I heard Jim might not have been the friendliest when you returned his PADD. He doesn't do well with unexpected visitors and change and sometimes it comes out in unpleasant ways. I wanted to apologise and give you a peace offering," says Leonard. It's one of the reasons he stressed not dropping the PADD off in the first place but what's done is done.

Scotty looks nonplussed. "Ya don't need to apologize; you're not the one with attitude and foul mouth. Is that scotch?" he asks, pointing to the bottle.

"Bourbon," replies Leonard, turning the label out.

"Come on," says Scotty stepping back from the door so Leonard can enter. "It's not going to drink itself."

* * *

Leonard rubs his hands over his face to try and regain focus. He's bone tired and weary in a way no amount of sleep is going to cure. He flops into the chair at his desk and begins typing his report for the day. It's the first time he's sat down all day and there's a good chance he won't be able to stand up when the time comes. At least it's a good report today.

It's been a month according to the stardate. It's passed in both a blink of an eye and the slow crawl of eternity. He hit the ground running the second the shuttle docked with the Enterprise and he hasn't stopped since. Long days with few hours for sleep, buried under endless research and hypothesises, left room for nothing else. In the end he can say he won the battle. The delegate is cured and as a bonus they've managed a vaccination for the rest of the inhabitants in this solar system.

It feels good to finally win something.

Leonard slowly looks up from his computer as the knock at his door penetrates his thoughts. He immediately goes to stand up, pain and muscle ache written all over his face. "Captain Pike."

Pike holds his hand out to abort Leonard's clearly painful effort to stand at attention. "Please stay seated. You look like you need the break."

Leonard can't even summon the energy to agree. In fact if someone dimmed the lights he could probably fall asleep sitting up.

"I thought we could celebrate finding a cure," says Pike, placing a bottle of well aged bourbon on the desk. There's pride in his eyes, like that of a father watching his child take a victory lap.

Leonard's eyes widen. It's not sleep but it'll do. He reaches down and pulls two glasses out of his bottom desk drawer. "You can never be too prepared," offers Leonard, when Pike eyes the glasses with an evil grin.

Pike pours two glasses and slides one over to Leonard. They raise them in toast.

"To intergalactic peace," says Leonard.

"To a job well done," insists Pike before clinking his glass.

Leonard takes a long drink savouring the flavour and burn that hits in just the right way. It feels so damn good to not have to worry about anything- no lives hanging in the balance, no one to take care of, no tedious edge to preciously balance on, no Romulans.

"There's a permanent position here, if you want it," offers Pike. "The Enterprise could use someone like you. That is if there's nothing keeping you on Earth."

It's a hell of an offer; the dream of any officer. And there's nothing stopping McCoy from perusing it. He took the position on Starbase Four to get off the planet and put distance between him and everything he can't have. You can't get any further than a moving starship.

McCoy's computer flashes with an emergency message and his heart practically stops. Every nightmare scenario passes through his head of all the things that could have happened to his little girl that would prompt an emergency call. He stabs at the play button like he can will it away with force.

The words sear themselves into his very soul, a tattoo that will never come off.

Pike watches as all the color drains from Leonard. "What's wrong?" he asks, going to red alert.

"I have to go back to Earth right now," stammers Leonard in a panic. His world is threatening to blink out like a dying star. "It's Jim."

* * *

"Dinner's ready, Jim," calls Leonard as he pulls the last dish from the replicator. It isn't fancy but he's just too damn tired to really put an effort into dinner tonight. In fact, putting together a meal was the last thing on his mind when he came home today. He would have skipped eating altogether but it's pretty clear Jim hasn't eaten anything and even if Leonard doesn't have the energy to practice good habits, he's obligated to make sure Jim does.

Leonard sits down, grabbing his napkin and setting it across his lap. "Jim! Food." He has no idea what Jim's up to. He was in the bathroom when Leonard got home and hasn't surfaced from the bedroom at all. Getting Jim to do things can be a lot like herding cats and Leonard doesn't have the energy for it tonight, especially over something like coming out and eating.

He gets through about three bites before he tries again. "Jim?"

Nothing.

Leonard throws his napkin on the dining room table. Apparently he's the parent of two children today. God does he hates being anything other than a husband to Jim.

The bedroom is just how Leonard left it after he got changed and the bathroom door is still locked. "Jim?" He bangs gently on the door with his fist. "Are you feeling okay?" It's been twenty minutes since Leonard came home and Jim was already in the bathroom then.

"Jim?"

The silence doesn't sooth Leonard's restless nerves. He analyzes the last time he was with Jim. Was he warm with fever? Was his color normal? Did he seem to be aching anywhere unusual?

"Jim I'm going to need you to talk to me here."

He bangs a little harder on the door. The silence is getting louder and there's a sharp pain in his gut that keeps taking him back to a place he never wants to be again.

' _This is Haven medical facility. There's been an incident involving a James Kirk. You should get here right away.'_

Leonard's not doing that again. "Jim if you don't say something, I'm going to break the door down," he threatens. His hands start to shake as his mind spins out of control. He doesn't have time for games and temper tantrums or whatever Jim thinks he's doing because Jim promised _that_ wasn't going to happen again. "I warned you Jim!"

"Computer, override the lock on door B two, medical authorization McCoy seven nine three six delta beta zulu."

The computer chirps its compliance and the lock to the bathroom door clicks open. Leonard stands there frozen, staring at the closed door, terrified about what he might find on the other side of that door. If Jim...

No.

He reaches over and taps the open button. The door slides open but the lights don't come on. It's entirely dark in the bathroom as Leonard takes his first step across the threshold. Something crunches under his foot. "What the hell? Computer lights," he demands all fiery spite.

Jim's sitting on the floor in the shower, his back against the corner and his eyes glued to the floor. He doesn't say a word or even look like he knows Leonard's forced himself into the room.

He looks whole and unharmed and something in Leonard relaxes like a knot pulling loose. Jim's breathing and in one piece; he can work with that.

Leonard lifts his foot. He's crushed one of thousands of computer pieces that formerly comprised the PADD Scotty just fixed scattered across the bathroom floor. The pieces are all intact except for the one Leonard stepped on so the PADD was dismantles not destroyed.

"They're spying on us," says Jim, quiet and resigned without lifting his head.

Leonard closes his eyes. If he thought he was tired before, he feels broken now. He leaves his fear and anger at the door and sits beside Jim on the cold shower floor.

"The bug was in the PADD?" asks Leonard. He knows Starfleet isn't spying on them and Jim knows that too. But right now, it's not Starfleet Jim's worried about. In fact, Jim's probably not here at all.

"Thought I wouldn't figure it out but I did," says Jim like he's more irritated that Nero and his men don't think Jim's smart enough for that.

A tear comes to Leonard's eye. "You always were clever like that." He turns his hand palm up and rests it on his knee. It's there if Jim wants it but out of Jim's personal space if he doesn't.

Jim looks up a little. Not enough to look Leonard in the eye but enough to securitize his hand. Holding hands is dangerous. Any kind of affection towards Leonard could be used against them. Jim has no intention of giving Nero anything useful but if he threatened Leonard's life, Jim would find away to give Nero anything he asked.

"Is that why you took the PADD apart?"

"Had to find the bug."

"Naturally," agrees Leonard. "Can you fix it?"

Jim snorts, affronted. "Of course."

"Good. Because we're running out of those."

"I have to keep you safe, Bones," replies Jim dutifully like it's his primary function in life.

"You did," assures Leonard softly. He corrects, "You do."

Jim starts to bit his lip. "If I did then they wouldn't put hands on you," snarls Jim. The self-incrimination is palpable. "He wouldn't have taken you today."

Leonard says a silent prayer that Jim hasn't been in the throes of this paranoid delusion since he left for shift this morning. "Jim, look at me, I'm fine. Nobody laid a hand on me," he insists.

Reluctantly Jim looks up.

Leonard tries to stay relaxed as Jim catalogues every inch of him despite wanting to resurrect every Romulan that was on the Narada and inflicting them all with a few diseases. Except Nero- he'd take that son of a bitch apart with his bare hands and a dull spoon. Nero is the only person that has ever made Leonard want to break every point of his medical oath.

Jim's fingers ghost over Leonard's body like he's afraid he'll hurt Leonard if his touch is too hard. He checks everywhere looking for any sign that someone has marred his lover's body. Leonard shifts, moving slowly to give Jim room to search.

With Jim concentrating on his search, Leonard uses the distraction to subtly grab his spare med kit that sits on the shelf next to the shower.

Jim's particularly thorough around Leonard's right eye, like the lack of a bruise is some sort of deception and hiding Leonard's injuries is a new form of torture for them both.

Leonard remembers the black eye Jim's looking for. His head throbs at the thought as his stomach rolls and threatens to reject the few bites of dinner he had. Ayel had hit him so hard that after the stars dancing around his head disappeared and the world stopped spinning, his eye swelled shut for over a week. Leonard thought for sure he'd have permanent damage. As it was, his depth perception was horribly off for two weeks which made attempting to operate on Ensign Cavert damn near impossible. If Leonard's being honest, it's probably why he couldn't stop the arterial bleed in time. "Are we safe again?"

"For now," grumbles Jim.

Leonard wonders why that pisses Jim off so much. Most people find relief in being safe but Jim treats it like the eye of a hurricane; storm raging on all sides, it's just a matter of time before it hits again.

Leonard scoots closer to Jim's side, placing his open hand on his knee once more. "Ok."

Jim reaches over and rests his hand in Leonard's. He lets his head fall against Leonard's shoulder and they sit there in silence.

Leonard uses his free hand to work free one of his hypos and load the charge. It's cumbersome and difficult but he's had practice with exactly this scenario. Slowly he reaches over his head and gently places the loaded hypo against Jim's neck. Jim doesn't even feel the injection. Leonard focuses on the rhythm of Jim's breathing while he waits for Jim to come out of this.


	7. Chapter 7

Chekov punches the bag until his wrist feels like it's going to fall off. He's never been one of those guys who goes looking for a fight, opting instead to solve things with reason. Still, he took all the required hand to hand combat courses at the academy, passing with sufficient marks. It's what makes his Captain having to save him from hostile natives on the latest planet they've visited all the more embarrassing. He already has to prove himself by virtue of being the youngest, now he looks even more like a child to those he serves with.

Every morning now before most other people get up, Chekov has decided to hit the gym and work on his combat skills until he's sure next time fists fly, he won't have to hide behind anyone. So far, he's failing miserably. A basic computer program is beating him.

"You wanna know what you're doing wrong?"

Chekov jumps about foot. He thought he was the only here in the dimly lit gym at a zero four hundred hours. Worse, he doesn't recognize the voice of who ever snuck up on him. He turns slowly, clamping down on the idea that some species has invaded the ship and he's going to have to put his nonexistent combat skill to use already.

McCoy's mystery companion Jim is leaning against the door frame eating a piece of fruit they brought back, from before mentioned hostile planet, that kind of resembles an apple. Jim looks like he already lost his fight badly, but clearly Chekov needs all the help he can get and even cautionary tale points are better than nothing. Hesitantly he nods.

Jim pushes off the wall taking one final bite of the apple before tossing the core in the towel bin. He walks over and begins adjusting Chekov's stance. "Don't drop your shoulder so much." Jim turns the program on again and stands back as Chekov runs through it again.

To Chekov's surprise, he does better with Jim's adjustments. "Thank you. That was great," says Chekov, earnestly.

"Don't be too thrilled, kid, it's just a training program. The real thing is much different." Jim would know. His life's been a series of fights- some good, some bad. Some he was never meant to win and some he couldn't afford to lose.

Jim's about to leave when Chekov asks, "Could you teach me?" He hesitates at the door. He should say no and be on his way. Nothing good will come in accepting this request. Still, he can't make himself walk away.

What could one lesson hurt?

"On the mat," says Jim, propping his cane against the wall.

Chekov is too impressed with how well a man who hobbled on board with a cane can move so quickly in the ring, to give much thought to the fact that it only took three moves to slam his ass to the ground. He clearly picked the right teacher.

* * *

Leonard's finishing up with a patient before he's even finished his first coffee of the day. He's starting to think these kids won't survive one day without the talented team in sickbay. They're not slammed since the ship hasn't encountered or experienced anything of note in days but it's far busier than Leonard wants to be at this hour.

"Safety procedures are not helpful suggestions, Ensign," berates McCoy. "Someone needs to baby-proof engineering," he adds under his breath.

Nurse Chapel comes over to update the patient file and to give the ensign a reprieve from McCoy's tender mercies.

Leonard turns around at the sound of sickbay's doors opening and his heart plummets to his feet. He's already scanning every inch of the man before him with his eyes for any sign injury before he can even utter, "Jim, what's wrong?"

Jim just doesn't wander around the ship during alpha shift; in fact he goes to great pains to avoid such a populated time on the ship. He should be in their quarters sleeping, not standing in sickbay. Leonard grabs his scanner and begins checking everything with Jim standing at the door. There might not be time to sit down.

Jim slaps Leonard's hand away as he runs the scanner over him for the second time. "Bones, relax! I'm not dying," assures Jim.

Leonard looks skeptical, like his tricorder chose this moment to stop working properly. The readings supports Jim's claim but doesn't make him feel better.

"Seriously, Bones, you're going to have a coronary if you don't relax a little." Jim heads towards a biobed, his limp severely hindering his stride. It does the opposite of reassure Leonard he needs to relax.

Leonard's at his side immediately, putting Jim's arm over his shoulder and wrapping his arm around Jim's waist to take as much weight as he can off Jim's leg. They get to an empty bed and Leonard has to do most of the work to get Jim on it.

"It hurts pretty bad today. I took some meds for it but it hasn't done a damn thing," confesses Jim.

Leonard frowns as he begins intently scanning Jim's leg. It has to be murder if Jim bothered to come all the way to sickbay to see Leonard. His in depth scan proves what he suspected is the issue. "Nurse, I need you to prepare a hypo."

Nurse Chapel is quick to fill the request, with a bright smile as she brings the loaded hypo. "Good morning, Jim," she greets, handing off the hypo.

"Morning, Christine," replies Jim with his lady killer smile.

Leonard jabs the hypo in Jim's thigh a little harder than necessary with his own evil grin. He doesn't need Jim flirting with his staff.

"Ouch!" says Jim, rubbing his thigh. "You sure you should be a doctor? You're bedside manner could use a little work. What was that anyway?"

"Anti-inflammatory and an extra strength pain killer. It should help take the edge off. And my bedside manner is just fine. Stop flirting with my nurses."

"Yep," agrees Jim, happily. He feels a little drunk, not out of control but kind of unnecessarily happy kind of drunk.

"You know what else takes the edge off?" asks Leonard, like they're about to discuss a universal secret out loud.

"Not over working your leg by not using your cane," scolds Leonard. He gives Jim a gentle slap on the side of the head. "Idiot."

Jim just rolls his eyes. It's not worth another round of this particular fight. And he's planning on riding this subtle buzz all the way to bed.

"Let's get you home," says Leonard, helping Jim to his feet. They assume the same position, Leonard a solid and comforting presence beside him as he takes most of Jim's weight.

"Christine, tell Geoff I'm going to be out making a house call for the next thirty minutes or so."

"Bye Christine," bubbles Jim, giving her a tiny wave and a wink as they leave sickbay.

* * *

Uhura's not sure what she was expecting exactly. She's met Jim before, much to her everlasting annoyance, so she knows the wild tales of the midnight pirate the crew are spinning are absurd. (Leonard would have mentioned a parrot by now.) She's seen Jim's last Starfleet photo so the scar and the cane aren't unexpected either. Still there's something about him that takes her off guard when he answers the door. Behind the bright smile and warm greeting, there's something haunted and brittle, like a bird that's had its wings clipped but still remembers how it feels to soar.

She'd never thought she'd feel sorry for Jim Kirk until this moment.

"Uhura?" asks Jim, like she's missed her queue.

"What?" she says, coming back to herself.

Jim tips his head lower causing his bangs to slip further forward hiding his scar even more. He's long figured out when someone is trying to determine if looking is more or less offensive than not looking. "Are you going to stand at the door all night or are you going to come in?"

"Yes, sorry," she says, stepping into the McCoys' quarters. She hands Jim a bottle of wine. "I wasn't sure what we were having so I brought white.

Uhura takes a good look at the place as Jim leads her to the dining room. It's like getting to see behind the curtain in oz; there's been so much speculation about them, Jim in particular, it's hard not to check for the fantastical theories crewmen have come up with even though she knows most of them are ridiculous before she even stepped foot over the threshold. It's all homey and comfortable; a well earned balance between Jim's chaos and Leonard's order. It's nowhere near the clear line of messy versus neat freak of their shared dorm room.

"That Uhura?" calls Leonard from the kitchen, over the clang of dishes. It smells heavenly, significantly better than the sandwich and salad she probably would have replicated for herself tonight.

"Yeah and she brought a bottle of wine," replies Jim, handing the bottle off to Leonard as he pokes his head out of the kitchen.

"Dinner will be just a moment, if you want to have a seat," says Leonard, setting out a plate of garlic bread.

She sits across from Jim, leaving Leonard the spot beside both of them. Having Leonard between her and Jim has been the only way she could ever tolerate Jim's juvenile antics.

"It's been awhile," says Jim, "you remember that first name yet?" There's a coy smile on his face that's so reminiscent of the old days. Uhura didn't realize she even missed that infuriating smile.

"Uhura or Lieutenant will work just fine," she counters with her all too familiar smile.

"It's a big ship. I'm sure someone on it knows your name," challenges Jim.

Uhura stares him down. For his first volley in years, it's not a bad one. "You don't talk to any of them."

"Touché. Claire."

"Claire?"

Jim shrugs. "I told you if you didn't tell me your name, I'd have to make one up for you."

"And that's what you came up with? Claire?"

"Naomi?" says Jim, trying it on for size. Uhura frowns, as she unfolds her napkin and lays it on her lap. "Roxanne? Beth? T'chel?" continues Jim.

"What are you two going on about?" asks Leonard, as he sets down two huge bowls, one with rice and the other with chicken and mushrooms in a cream sauce and sits down at the table with them.

"Uhura needs a first name," replies Jim, grabbing the bowl of rice to starting to spoon heaps of rice on his plate.

Leonard shakes his head. "Not this again."

They both know Leonard knows her first name. Even if he didn't know it as her friend, he has access to every crewmen's personnel records, first names included, as CMO. Uhura's never once asked him to keep it a secret, and yet he keeps it, even though the sole purpose of withholding it is to annoy the hell out of Jim, the same way Jim's never once asked Leonard to betray Uhura's confidence to win their little game.

Dinner is actually quite pleasant. Uhura and Leonard both have horror stories about admirals throwing their weight around in fields they have no business in and cadets that make them secretly question the future of the universe. Jim seeks out any opportunity to tease Uhura about anything he thinks might ruffle her feathers but not enough to sour the night.

All Jim's stories are amusing anecdotes about farm animals or Leonard or both. Never anything personal and certainly never about Starfleet or Nero.

It's only her and Leonard working on the bottle of wine and they're doing a good job. So much so, that she shares her own amusing tale of past love. Loose lips sink ship, or in this case, torpedo starships.

"You're sleeping with the Captain?" exclaims Jim, thrilled like a dog that's gotten into the trash.

Uhura silently curses bringing a bottle of wine and Jim's choice to abstain tonight of all nights. "Not anymore," she corrects. "We broke up not long after Vulcan."

Leonard looks sympathetic and maybe a little sad before tossing back the last few swallows in his glass and pouring himself another.

"Oh my god, what was that even like?" presses Jim with unrelenting enthusiasm.

"Jim!" manages Leonard, practically choking on his wine.

"What? Can you imagine that, Bones?"

"I'm trying not to."

* * *

If Scotty was surprised when the doctor showed up at his door, he's even more floored when a few days later Jim himself shows up looking awkward and forced to be there in turn. They stare at each other for a few moments; Jim scuffing his foot and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Jim looks infatuated with the floor. "I'm not good at apologizing," he mumbles before raising his head to look Scotty directly in the eye. "So un-fuck you, or whatever."

It takes Scotty's brain a moment to compute exactly what's happening. "Okay," he says, not sure if Jim's just going to leave it there. Jim just stares at him blankly, like he's waiting on Scotty to dismiss him or something. "That was a shit apology. It wasn't even me that you told to go fuck myself, you just shut a door in my face. Do you make it a habit of telling crewmen where to go and how to get there? Cause this isn't the lot you want to pick a fight with."

"It would be a good fight." A smile over takes Jim. There's a spark of life that takes hold that Scotty hasn't seen in the limited encounters he's had with the young man. It's like Scotty's finally speaking his language. "Haven't had one of those since the one that got me into Starfleet."

"Got you in?" Fights are usually a sure fire way to get out of Starfleet not in. "So you do serve?"

That light and life seems to disappear right before Scotty's eyes. "No. I'm not Starfleet," snaps Jim, like it's an absurd notion.

Scotty's lost. "But you just said..."

"I didn't say anything," says Jim abruptly and with finality, like he's daring Scotty to say otherwise.

"Alright," agrees Scotty for lack of any better response. "You wanna drink?" he asks. There's no better way to bond than over something with a kick. He still has about half a bottle of bourbon that McCoy brought over.

"Yes," say Jim. He aborts his step forward in a jerky manner. "No. I shouldn't. It mixes with my meds."

"What meds are those?" says Scotty without thinking. Everything is so back and forth his brain can't keep up enough to sensor the things coming out. He realizes what he's said too late as Jim pales considerably. "Are we not supposed to talk about that either?"

Foot firmly in mouth. Scotty wants to bang his head against the nearest bulk head. The crew should probably stop talking about this guy behind his back. Scotty can't keep conjecture separate from the few facts they do know about Jim McCoy.

Jim's hands clench into fists at his side. There's a finely controlled anger dancing like fire behind his eyes. "I'm going to..." he says before turning abruptly and leaving. It's not the fastest storming off Scotty's seen due to the obvious hitch in Jim's gait but the point is made none the less.

* * *

Leonard tries to look like he's paying attention but weekly staff meetings aren't that interesting to start with, let alone when they're filled with endless reports of the latest scientific findings. The science department is on cloud nine with the discovery of a star that's about to go through a rare phase. Leonard's excitement begins and ends with 'cool light show.' The rest of it is just a long string of scientific words that have little impact on his day. He's sure the others feel the same way when he's giving a rundown of medical stats but Leonard tries to keep his simple and straight to the point.

Roberts finally finishes up and Spock dismisses the senior staff. It's like getting out of school on a Friday; that sweet taste of freedom rejuvenating you after a long tiring week. Leonard's looking forward to sleeping in, curled around Jim and breakfast so late it technically counts as lunch after spending the night watching the star put on a light show to rival the fireworks on Federation day. Leonard's almost there now.

"Dr McCoy, could I speak with you a moment," calls Spock, before Leonard can even clear the conference room table.

Maybe he didn't do such a good job as faking interest in the meeting as he thought. He lets out a long sigh and braces himself for what could be a tedious conversation. "Yes, Captain?"

Spock waits until everyone else has left the room before retrieving the PADD from the bottom of his pile. He brings up a few star charts and hands the display over to Leonard. "I did not know you had an interest in navigation and star charts."

Leonard looks confused. "I don't," he says but then looks at the PADD and suddenly it makes sense. He's looking at the course Jim had been mapping out.

"I am curious as to how you knew the location of this phenomenon?"

Sure enough, Jim plotted out the ship detouring to this exact location. Leonard looks at the star date the plan was submitted- three weeks ago. A report submitted by one Dr Leonard McCoy, CMO.

Leonard closes his eyes. _Damn it, Jim._

"I'm a doctor not a navigator, Spock. This report may have been submitted with my credentials but it's not mine," he confesses, preparing himself for a lecture about security breaches. "Jim likes to mess around with star charts and courses. It keeps him busy and makes him feel like he's still capable of being a part of all this. I'll tell him to quit forging my name on stuff and botherin' you with it."

"I must express concern of his ability gain access to your computer accounts and the ships encoded star charts, but am intrigued at how he could file a course to this star two weeks before the science department gathered enough evidence to deem investigating this solar system worthy of the detour?" states Spock.

Leonard shrugs. "Jim's good. Eighty percent genius, fifteen percent luck and five percent steadfast belief that that luck won't run out. Jim was damn near the top of his class at the academy, on track to being the youngest Captain ever. Then Nero happened and that dream died along with a lot of other people. He won't ever see that captain's chair, but that wildly intelligent and natural born explorer is still in there."

"Perhaps he should consider a career in astrophysics charting and research," suggests Spock. He knows good work when he sees it and it would be a shame to waste such talent when there are avenues to put it to use outside of Starfleet.

The fond glint in Leonard's eye that appeared when talking about Jim's skill disappears, leaving the doctor sullen and deflated. "You've only seen Jim on his better days."

That gives Spock pause. His encounters with Jim so far have not demonstrated an individual who is a stellar representation of humanity. Insubordination and a clear impulse control issue are only the first things that come to mind in which the brass would have concerns and a lengthy discipline record over. It's a little easier to see how Starfleet could allow someone as obviously skilled as Jim McCoy be discharged from service so completely and abruptly.

He also knows what it's like to be underestimated because someone else saw him as less. The Vulcan science academy thought his mother would make him incapable of meeting their standard. He had proved them wrong and then chose Starfleet instead, where his mother's influence was seen as an asset not a handicap.

' _I assure you I wouldn't have put him there if I didn't think it would be beneficial for both of you.'_

Spock decides to take one of those leaps Admiral Pike always spoke of. "I am prepared to give Mr McCoy his own clearance to allow him to continue to make star charts and plot courses." He can see Leonard start to perk up. "It is by no means a guarantee that I will implement any course set out by Mr McCoy. I will simply take it under advisement."

"I'll let him know." Leonard extends his hand to shake Spock's. "Thank you." Spock nods accepting his thanks and dismissing him.

Leonard leaves and makes it about thirty steps before he has to stop and lean against the bulkhead so he doesn't fall over. He's a war zone of excitement and apprehension. He wants nothing but the best for Jim, to see him shine and be graced by every happiness this universe can offer. He's also seen this play out before and the end result is heartbreakingly disastrous. He's not sure he can go through that again let alone Jim.

The line between protective and supportive is so blurry he's terrified he'll trip and fall down the slippery slope of good intentions gone awry. Deciding his fear is more his own, he opts to relay Spock's offer. There will be ground rules. By the time Leonard gets back to their quarters he's already come up with eight of them.


	8. Chapter 8

If Scotty believed in omens, he'd have never crawled out of bed today. The ship's been victim to random power surges compliments of the special anomaly they're observing which puts out bursts energy that overload random ship systems. It's nothing they can't stay on top of but priorities being what they are, things like personal alarms and functioning sonic showers are at the bottom of the list. Scotty knows, because his alarm failed to wake him on time, and insult to injury, his shower isn't working.

Neither is the replicator in his quarters apparently. He lets out a dejected sigh as he stares at the empty coffee mug. Engineering is hopping and now he's so behind, he can't stop at the cafeteria to grab a coffee and maybe a piece of toast.

He's in such a hurry he trips over his own feet trying to not step on something someone has carelessly left in front of his door. It's not the most graceful landing; he sticks it though.

"What the ...?" shouts Scotty. Someone's about to have as bad a day as he is.

He bends down and picks up the slightly familiar item. It's a sonic driver, though not standard issue. Someone's been messing with it. He examines the device as he heads to engineering. The modifications are well done, a little homemade in execution, but an ingenuity he'd love to see in some of his first year engineers.

Scotty asks around the department but no one knows anything about the sonic driver. Whoever was tinkering with it increased the precision by thirty-seven percent and the power and range by fifty-eight percent.

It definitely comes in handy with all the repairs today. He wishes he knew who to thank.

* * *

_'_ _Cadet Kirk to Starfleet. Held captive aboard Romulan ship under Nero. They stranded someone on Delta Vega. Nero has a weapon and he plans to lure the fleet into a trap at Vulcan. Of forty-eight survivors of the Troubadour, twenty-two are left.'_

* * *

It's after midnight, so whoever's at Uhura's door better be three seconds away from death or they will be when she gets through with them. She throws her robe on and stumbles towards the door. The lights are up just enough to make out shadows of furniture because she's not committing to being up unless she absolutely has to.

The doors part and Leonard is standing there awkwardly with a pillow clutched tightly in his hand. "Normally I'd grab a hotel but..." He shrugs shoulders. One downside of being on a starship besides everyone knowing your business is there aren't a lot of places to go when you're in the dog house with your partner.

Uhura feels for Leonard. She had her fair share of fights with Spock when they were together that had them sleeping in separate locations. The plus side of keeping their relationship a secret was they both had their own quarters, even if normally they stayed in his. Leonard has no place to go, confined on a ship. She steps to the side to allow him entry. "Does he do this often?"

Any fight that escalates to this point feel like one too often. "It's not a regular occurrence but this isn't the first time. Sometimes Jim just needs some space."

Leonard sits on the couch while Uhura makes them some tea. He feels bad just showing up at her door in the middle of the night but there really isn't anywhere else to go. He hasn't exactly prioritised making friends on this ship and it would be kind of weird and slightly unprofessional to have your boss show up at your door so that leaves exactly Uhura.

The other option would be to have Jim storm out in a dramatic huff and that never ends well.

"Want to talk about it?" she asks, the china cups clinking as they're set on the table.

"Not much to talk about. It's the same record we seem to play. He'll cool off by tomorrow morning and I'll be out of your hair." This fight is as predictable as the seasons. It's part of Jim's emotional rollercoaster ride. Leonard's long since stopped taking it personally. He'd be just as frustrated as Jim if he were in Jim's shoes. Leonard's just the safest metaphorical punching bag that Jim can unleash on and still feel safe and certain Leonard won't give up on him.

"With all that you do for him, he doesn't have the right to treat you like this," says Uhura. "He's lucky you put up with any of it." It's no secret she isn't Jim's biggest fan. Frankly, she always thought Leonard could do better than Jim for a friend. Now that she knows they're married, she fears Jim doesn't appreciate the clear devotion Leonard has for him. Leonard is loyal and caring; kind, in his own way. She can't fathom what Leonard sees in Jim but she can see the hurt broken look in his eyes as he's sitting on her couch at two in the morning instead of being in bed with his husband.

"It's not like that," says Leonard. "Jim doesn't want pity and I don't need any. Jim took the brunt of things with Nero because he was protecting me. Hell, he's the only reason I made it out of there alive. It's something I can never pay him back for even if I spend the rest of my days trying. But I don't stay because I owe him. I stay because I want to. Because any day without him is a million times worse than any fight or bad day we have."

"That doesn't mean this relationship is healthy, Leonard. You've given up everything for him," says Uhura. She's not trying to be cruel. Who is she to give advice on love when hers walked away out of duty to his species. As much as it hurts her to know she wasn't enough for Spock to choose her, she also knows if he had, the relationship would still have been doomed under a mountain of resentment and inadequacy.

Leonard rests his hand on to top of Uhura's. Neither or their lives turned out the way they imagined they would. Hope is a cruel mistress.

"I left him once," says Leonard, low like he's exposing a shameful dirty secret.

That gives Uhura pause. She hadn't heard that from anyone she talked to when she was trying to figure out who Leonard had brought onboard with him. The revelation is actually kind of surprising.

"It was about two years after Nero and a year after Starfleet had come to the conclusion that Jim was never really fit for duty let alone command. They wished him well and showed him the door. Hell of a thank you for saving their collective asses. Jim was miserable and it was makin' me miserable. It just seemed like everything I tried to do to make him happy just made things worse. I turned down commissions and he'd get mad that I was ruining my career. I'd go to medical conferences on other planets and he'd be bitter that I still had a career. He kept telling me to leave over and over again. He even filed separation papers. So one day I did." Leonard's head drops like he revealed his greatest shame.

"I thought that if I did what he asked, that if having me around was too painful for him, then maybe he'd be better off if I left. It could be a fresh start for him, without the constant reminder that he sacrificed his whole life for me. I was wrong. So very wrong."

Leonard stares at the wall, looking so far way. "Maybe we were both right, maybe we were both wrong. Somewhere in the middle of all those good intentions we found hell. I can handle being thrown out from time to time. It's better than the alternative."

* * *

Leonard's heart feels like it's going to rip through his chest. The pounding of his feet against the tacky linoleum flooring is the only thing that reminds him this isn't some horrible nightmare, as he races down the only wing of a hospital in bumfuck Iowa. Even Starfleet had to double check the coordinates for this nonexistent blip on the map. Trust Jim to be able to find some backwoods one horse town to get into trouble. At least they have some kind of medical facility, even if it's something out of the prehistoric age.

A pair of nurses stop his panicked dash to get to Jim. He can barely hear them over his racing heart and the words that are making it through don't make any sense. What they're describing doesn't sound like Jim at all. Jim wouldn't do that- not that. He's reckless and self sacrificing but not...

"You've got it wrong," chokes out Leonard.

There's nothing but pity on their faces and an incessant insistence that that is exactly what happened.

It doesn't sink in, really sink in, until he's staring at Jim asleep on a hospital bed hooked up to IVs with his left arm wrapped up in stark white bandages that scream 'yes he did' louder than anything Leonard's ever heard.

Leonard doesn't move, he's frozen in place standing in the door way to Jim's room watching the rise and fall of his chest. Each breath which was a gift before is even more precious now in the shadow of death. The room slowly begins to brighten from night to morning, spilling all the colors of sunrise against the dull beige walls. It doesn't change what he sees lying in that bed.

He thought Jim was doing better, that maybe his constant presence was just a reminder when Jim needed a fresh start. He thought leaving like Jim asked was the correct thing to do. It was a mistake.

Jim starts to stir, his face pinching and twitching in minute movements. Slowly his eyes start to flutter until they open sleepily and land on Leonard. "Oh hey," he hums with a casualness that makes Leonard want to scream. If Jim thinks he can just sweep this aside like it was all some sort of misunderstanding, he's got another think coming.

"What did you do, Jim?" asks Leonard, strict, direct and almost cold. This is the manifestation of everything he's feared since surviving Nero.

"It's not a big deal," sighs Jim, pulling his bandaged arm under the blanket. The morning innocence that Leonard loved waking up next to disappears under a mask of sorrow and dejection.

"What did you do, Jim?" repeats Leonard. He wants to be mad- at Jim- Nero- the universe. Mostly he just wants to know why, so he can warp Jim in bubble wrap and make sure that whatever it is that pushed Jim to this point, never hurts him again.

"I was taking care of a problem," confesses Jim, his voice breaking on the last word. "This isn't going to get better and I can't... People around me... I couldn't live with myself if that curse hurt you worse than it already has. I can't do that to you and I can't live without you."

Leonard feels like he's been gut punched. "But I'm supposed to live without you?"

"At least then you'd be living," snaps Jim, agitation setting in. "You're just in limbo now, babysitting someone and forfeiting your dreams to do it." Last night was a revelation. He finally saw the world clearly and all the little details that he'd been missing, like the slow withering of Leonard's soul.

"There's no dream without you in it." The distance between the door and Jim's bed could be the Grand Canyon, it wouldn't matter, he's propelled to Jim's side with a desperate ache to just hold him. He wraps Jim up in his arms and makes silent promises to never let go again as he frantically kisses every inch of the kids head.

He can smell the lingering traces of alcohol on Jim's breath and it make him want to scream. Jim's a fighter and this was an alcohol fuelled decision complicated with the volatile mix of prescribed medication and a sharp object.

"You're the only reason I ever wanted to be on a damn starship. I don't want that kind of life without you. I don't want any life without you in it. If that means living in some rehab facility and sharing a medical cot or living in a yurt on some swamp planet because you like the shade of the water, then I'm there. Because I want to be, not because I feel I have to be. You don't need to protect me anymore, Jim. And I'm sorry you ever felt like this was the only answer."

"It's not your fault, Bones. It's just sometimes... this isn't how I pictured things turning out. I finally had something with Starfleet and now that's all gone. Nero's taken damn near everything from me. I don't want to be the one to take everything from you," sobs Jim, his face buried in Leonard's shoulder.

"You're not taking anything. In fact you gave me everything. I was an empty shell after my divorce, drowning in a sea of misery and then this smartass kid saw fit to pull me up from the depths and make this world shine again. You saved me, Jim and you keep doing it every day just by being you," assures Leonard, because god damn it, it's true. Jim's his wings not his ball and chain.

Jim grabs on tighter to the back of Leonard's shirt, the tears seeming endless. "And I ruined that too," he whispers. He thought filing an official notice of separation might be the thing that severed the tether between them that's been holding Leonard next to him. Being selfless and freeing Leonard from the dark hole that Jim now permanently resides was supposed to make him feel better, be the one good thing that he could do since he's no longer fit to do anything else. It didn't. It felt like removing one of the base blocks in a jenga tower and watching it go tumbling down.

"Paper or not, you're not getting rid of me that easily Jim Kirk."

* * *

It takes three days to piece together Jim's alcohol fuelled trek across three states, culminating in a speck of a town no one's heard of in a dirty motel room that charges by the hour. The thought of Jim meeting his end beside some anonymous blood stain and a discarded pair of a previous prostitute's fishnet stockings makes Leonard's stomach turn.

Jim's tight lipped about most of the details. The toxicity report and the bright pink line of skin held together with good ole fashioned stitches says more than Jim needs to. He's sullen, combative and just plain uncooperative with everything going on around him to the point that Leonard's sure the hospital staff (more like a clinic in Leonard's opinion) are happy to send him out the door. The relieved to be alive bliss wore off with Jim's pain meds. Now he's back to hating the world.

Jim's even thinner than he was when Leonard left. The baggy sweatshirt he's thrown on doesn't improve the look of his stature. His glower grows deeper as Leonard pushes the wheelchair into Jim's room.

"Check out time," says Leonard, as he physically puts Jim in the chair. Jim could probably walk and given the choice would opt to crawl out if he had to but policy says if he's wheeled in, he's wheeled out. He's not talking to Leonard today but at least he isn't actively working against him the way he did the nurses this morning. Small miracles. Leonard will take them where he can get them.

Jim's sleeves get pushed up during the transfer from his bed to the wheel chair. Leonard notices first. The arm's been butchered, first by Jim and then by the man claiming to be the town surgeon. Stitches were put to rest in favor of dermal regenerators and nano sutures decades ago but facilities with little funding have to resort to old methods sometimes.

Leonard tires to look at it with clinical detachment, assessing what's been done and what he can do now to try and remove the blemish of that night that now mars Jim's skin like a coiling snake. It doesn't work. Every detail brings him back to the fact that it's Jim's skin on _his_ arm covering _his_ veins. Leonard's kind of relieved the kid didn't pay that much attention in biology class or Leonard could be here to claim a corpse. Jim's sheer dumb luck worked over time this week to see him through this mess despite the kid's rather thorough attempt otherwise.

It's one more scar on a body riddled with dozens of others and even more invisible ones.

Jim's quick to push his sleeve down.

"I can run a regenerator of that, try and lessen it for you, but a cosmetic surgeon is the only one that can erase it completely now," offers Leonard, trying to tread lightly.

"No," is all Jim says.

Leonard's not sure what Jim's angle is in regards to the scar. It's not something they have to address right this moment anyways. "I've booked a hotel in Sioux City for a couple of days, then we can catch a shuttle back home to San Francisco." There about two hours away, trapped in the confined space of a rental car before extracting themselves to the gilded cage of a hotel room.


	9. Chapter 9

Scotty does his best work at night and in the wee hours of morning; it's quiet and there's no one pestering him with stupid questions. It's just him, the gentle purr of his engines and Keenser lurking about somewhere. He can accomplish a lot, especially much needed repairs and upkeep that often gets neglected in the hustle and bustle of the day. It's why he doesn't mind taking his turn at beta and gamma shift.

That and there's fewer junior engineers to try and manage. He loves being Chief engineer- of the Enterprise no less, but he could do with less of the people management part; especially the young ones that can't tell one end of a sonic screw driver from the other. It's what makes this time alone with the engines so nice. He can do twice the amount of work by himself when left alone then he can with the 'kids' underfoot.

Chekov might be the one bright star in the bunch and technically he's not part of engineering. Having shown an interest in the department, Spock agreed to let him shadow Scotty. It's the best decision the captain's made so far, in Scotty's opinion. Unfortunately, Scotty has to share Chekov with the bridge.

It also means he has to redo the circuitry on the regulating panel by himself tonight. It's not difficult, just tedious. He's sprawled out on this back with his head buried in the consol when he blindly reaches for his hypospanner. His hand hits nothing but deck, and then slightly to the left a decoupler. He tries again towards the right of his pile of tools and hits a trident scanner. He knows the hypospanner's there, he laid it out himself. With an irritated huff he tries again.

"Here."

The Hypospanner hits Scotty in the arm, taking him by surprise. "What the..." he yells in surprise before his head collides with the console- hard as he tries to sit up to see who's intruding upon his solitude.

Jim winces at the thud and takes a step back as Scotty comes flying out from under the consol. Jim raises his hands in surrender while Scotty sits up wielding the spanner like a weapon like he's the only one standing between the Enterprise and full on Klingon invasion.

"What the hell?" shouts Scotty looking at the consol with betrayal before looking at Jim. "Where did you come from? What are you even doing here? Ouch!" The engineer does look like he's going to have a fairly good goose egg on his head tomorrow.

Jim just shrugs. "Thought I'd take a look at the engine room. The Enterprise is supposed to be one of the fastest ships in the fleet. I wanted to see for myself what all the fuss was about."

Scotty looks skeptical. Warp drive and manifolds might get his pulse racing but it rarely does it for anyone else. "You've got an interest in engine rooms?"

Jim shrugs nonchalant. "I've got a thing for ships. And it beats staring at the walls tonight."

Scotty can work with that. "Well, ye come to the right place," says Scotty starting to slide out from the consol. He'll gladly talk about his lovely lady Enterprise.

"Please, don't let me stop you from finishing," says Jim, holding his hands up to stop Scotty's efforts. He isn't here to drag anyone away from their work. He's also not looking for the ambassador tour either. The things that make a ship special are the small often overlooked details that fail to impress the casual spectator.

Scotty sticks his back in the consol, hypospanner in hand. He prattles on about all the engine specks and non text book solutions he's had to implement over the years to keep the ship functioning. He never once has to ask for the tool he needs next; Jim already has it in hand waiting for Scotty to take it as Jim sits idly on the consol. Even more impressive, they're all calibrated precisely to the task. Scotty can't even get the junior engineers to be that on the ball or intuitive. The job gets done in half the time it should.

"Where'd you learn your stuff?" asks Scotty as he finally gets to extricate himself from the consol.

"It's good to know the basics of everything on a ship. You never know when you may need it."

"So you _were_ in Starfleet," surmises Scotty. Only someone who's served on a ship knows the value of being a jack of all trades because if it can go wrong, it will go wrong.

Jim looks a little pained, going quiet and shrinking in on himself. "A long time ago," he whispers, like saying it too loudly will summon all the pain and agony he experienced when he lost it.

"Engineering track?" asks Scotty, not because he wants to pick at such an obvious wound but because he knows almost nothing about the man before him and this is the longest, most productive conversation they've ever had and he kind of wants to keep it going.

"No," says Jim with a snort. "I had a lot of free time as a kid and very little supervision. I got into the habit of taking things apart and putting them back together; especially my dad's old bikes. Working as a mechanic was an easy way to earn credits on the side or anywhere I ended up and needed temporary employment."

Self taught, Scotty can get behind that. "Anytime you want to come down here and be a glorified assistant, you're more than welcome," offers Scotty, his mouth moving faster than his brain. It's the kind of offer he should run by the Captain but what transpires in engineering during gamma shift couldn't really hurt anything.

"I'm not that board," says Jim with a laugh. He slides off the consol and ambles out of engineering.

Scotty's pretty sure that's the end of the whole thing, except two weeks later Jim's back again, wordlessly handing Scotty tools as he's hanging out of a Jefferies tube.

* * *

Leonard's dead on his feet. Not only are beta shifts a giant pain in the ass but they eat up the whole day. Rank has its privilege so Leonard doesn't have to pull any gamma shifts but he still has to take a turn at beta shift. He'll be glad when the week is over.

It's after midnight so he's not surprised that the lights in their quarters are dimed. He tip toes inside. Hopefully Jim's fast asleep and if Leonard's quiet, maybe he can slip into bed and enjoy a few hours of cuddling before Jim slips off to poke around in the astrometrics lab.

"Surprise!" yells Jim, jumping up from behind the couch.

Leonard flinches hard backing up and almost falling over the side table. His heart's beating like a jack hammer. He lets out a long breath as the lights come up. Realizing his life's not in immediate danger, he snarls, "What the hell, Jim?" If he wasn't awake before he is now.

Jim just stands there in his party hat and blows into a paper horn that unrolls with a squeal until it taps Leonard in the face. Leonard doesn't look all that impressed, but Jim doesn't care, he can get Leonard into a celebratory mood. "You thought I forgot, didn't you?"

Leonard has to wrack his brain. Clearly he's the only one that's forgotten something here.

"Happy Birthday," declares Jim, giving Leonard a peck on the cheek.

"Oh. _Oh."_ Leonard does the math in his head. It checks out.

Jim takes Leonard by the hand and leads him to the dining room like a kid dragging their parents to come see what Santa left. "I know you've already had dinner but how about dessert?" he asks, making a sweeping gesture over the table to emphasise the goodies he has laid out. Jim pulls out a chair for Leonard.

Leonard's still eyeing the spread as he sits down. Jim's managed to layout most of his favourites: peach cobbler, macadamia cookies, crème brulee, Andorian ice tarts and Ogarian jellies. They'll be able to eat for a week. "Someone's been busy."

"I replicated it myself," says Jim with pride as he turns on the candles and dims the lights. "Open your present!"

Leonard looks to the left of his plate and sure enough there's a neatly wrapped little box. He gently tugs the ribbon loose letting the wrapping paper fall away. Leonard looks at Jim in confusion. "It's your PADD?" He's not sure if he's missing something or Jim just didn't have time to actually get Leonard something or maybe Jim got confused in all his scheming and wrapped it by mistake.

"Turn it on," instructs Jim, with the infinite patience of someone explaining technology to the elderly.

Leonard thumbs it on with a little trepidation. He keeps his eyes glued to Jim for any clue as to what's going to happen, because with Jim, it could be anything. He can only take so many surprises tonight. Jim just smiles and shoves a large mouthful of cobbler in his mouth.

"Happy birthday, daddy," cheers Joanna from the PADD.

"Hey baby girl," says Leonard fondly, running his hand over the screen like it will somehow lessen the distance between them. A tear runs down his cheek as he watches her move boxes around her new dorm room. If he can't be there in person, this is the next best thing. He's not sure how or if Jim got authorization for this vid chat. He's not even going to ask. "How's the move going?"

"Oh you know. Lots to do before classes start on Wednesday. Skylar's been an immense help," she says angling the camera to get her boyfriend in the shot.

"Happy birthday, sir," says Skylar with a little wave as he deposits a large box on Joanna's bed.

"You're going to do great, sweetheart," assures Leonard. He's probably as nervous as she is. It's the first time his little girl is going to be on her own, _really_ on her own.

"I've got my first recital next week," she says as she gives her father a tour of the dorm. "I'll send you a copy of it."

"You better," says Jim loud enough to be heard.

Joanna lets out a little laugh, the one that melts Leonard's heart. "Hey, Uncle Jim," she greets with a sly smile, one that she somehow managed to inherit from Jim. "How's life on a floating tin can? Is dad doing okay?" she asks like Leonard's not the one holding the PADD.

"As grumpy as ever," enthuses Jim.

"Those poor junior officers," jokes Joanna."

Leonard rolls his eyes. He's not sure exactly when Jim and Joanna became thick as thieves but he's grateful. He'd rather see Jim rub off on her a little than see her with her mother's arrogant disposition or his cantankerous one. "Yeah, yeah you two."

"You'll keep him safe?" she asks, suddenly serious.

"Always," promises Jim, solemnly.

She lights up with that. "Skylar's made dinner reservations for us, so I have to go. Happy birthday, daddy."

"Have fun baby. We'll talk to you later," bids Leonard, kissing his fingertips and pressing them against the screen before the signal ends.

"He's a nice boy," says Jim, looking infatuated at his dessert. He knows Leonard's not thrilled that his little girl has a boyfriend or the fact that she isn't so little anymore.

"We'll see," grumbles Leonard. It's not even that he doesn't like Skylar; had they met under different circumstances he would be a delightful young man. However, the delightful young man has set eyes on his daughter and Leonard's not so sure there's anyone good enough.

"I can see them getting married."

"She's too young," lectures Leonard, pointing his fork at Jim to emphasise the point. She's barely eighteen with school and life ahead of her. There's no need to settle down yet.

"I don't know, how old were you when you got married?" points out Jim.

"And look how that turned out," protests Leonard. He was young and dumb and thought he had it all figured out. It was he and Jocelyn against the world and in the end it turned out to just be him against Jocelyn.

"You got a pretty good kid out of that deal. And that train wreck put you in my path," says Jim as he gets out of his chair and walks over to Leonard. He slides into Leonard's lap, swiping his finger through the bowl of whipped cream. "So I guess the wicked witch wasn't all bad," he says as he slips his finger between Leonard's lips.

Leonard laps the cream off Jim's finger. He places a gentle kiss on the back of Jim's hand before turning it over and placing another one over the palm. "You need to work on your game if you think talking about my ex-wife is good foreplay."

Jim cringes. "Such lack of faith, and on your birthday no less," he chides. "My game is on point, Dr McCoy."

"Prove it," challenges Leonard, wrapping his arms around Jim's lower back.

Jim leans in so close Leonard can just feel Jim's jaw brush his skin as Jim whispers, "See this whipped cream here?" Leonard nods as Jim takes another swipe and licks it off his own finger. "There's more in the living room where I'm going to lick it off of you as we lie on the blankets I've set up on the living room floor in front of the window. And then I'm going to make love to you under the stars."

Leonard goes pliant as Jim's deft fingers work their way under the hem of his uniform shirt and slowly peel it up and over Leonard's head. He watches appreciatively as Jim slides off his lap, with his shirt in hand and saunters towards the living room bidding Leonard to follow.

Leonard has to concede, Jim's game might be pretty on point.

* * *

Jim's not sure how it becomes a regular thing but it does. He doesn't tell Leonard that every week he meets Chekov in the gym before most of the crew has even thought about getting up for alpha shift and teaches him how to perfect all the moves someone in self-defence class had once rushed the kid through. Leonard would just insist on being there to make sure Jim doesn't hurt himself and have a series of mini strokes every time he thought Jim took a hit. Assuming he would let Jim do it at all. He knows his husband's already quietly fretting how well Jim can manage his expectations over the whole course plotting charts the Captain has agreed to look at. Telling him he's wrestling would put Leonard over the edge.

It's a lie of omission that's all; hardly the worst thing Jim has ever done. If Leonard asked him point blank if he was teaching combat to Chekov, Jim would tell him. Leonard never asks that particular question.

Jim likes Chekov. The kid never asks any questions that don't pertain to what they're doing and he doesn't look at Jim like some former shadow of himself. Not to mention the kid's held a navigation position on the bridge of the flag ship since seventeen and is something of a child genius. Jim can relate to that.

They started with Jim just showing Chekov some moves and how to correct his form and slowly moved into actual practice matches. Jim can even go for ten minutes straight now without needing to sit down. And if his leg or shoulder prove to be too much of an issue he can butter Christine up for some extra pain killers when he knows Leonard's stepped out of sickbay for lunch.

"Let's see what you remember from last time," says Jim, wrapping his hands in protective wrap and stepping onto the mat.

Chekov eagerly joins in the center and waits for the Jim to say start. It's not a gladiator fight so most things are done at half speed but he still has to be on his toes. He doubts Jim's shown him a tenth of the moves and counter moves the man knows.

They're working on escapes, what to do when the enemy has you in a hold. Chekov's small and wiry, which works to his advantage. He manages to free himself from Jim's choke hold, knocking Jim on his ass in the process. There's a mat on the floor but the fall stuns him for a moment.

"Sorry! Are you alright?" asks Chekov, looking apologetic and terrified in turn. He extends his hand to help Jim back up. The last thing he wants to do is make any of Jim's injuries worse.

Jim shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says. "Let's see if you can counter that move when someone tries it on you." Something feels off. His skin is crawling and his focus is wavering. Jim takes Chekov's former position and the kid wraps his arm around Jim's neck.

Jim reaches up to pull on Chekov's arm but it's not Chekov, it's Ayel. Jim can feel the arm squeezing tighter, cutting off the flow of air his starving lungs are desperately craving.

Hot acidic breath slithers down his jaw line as Ayel whispers in his ear, "When I'm finished with you, I'm going to put your doctor on a leash and beat him like the disobedient dog he is until he licks your blood off my boots."

Their captors have already killed most of the crew for the sheer pleasure of it. He's not going to let this monster hurt Bones any more than he already has. Jim rams his elbow hard into Ayel's stomach causing him to double over. With the arm no longer around his neck, Jim turns quickly driving a hard blow to the Romulan's head. Over and over again, he punches at any opening he can find driving them both back until Ayel is pressed against the wall. There's a certain satisfaction that comes from wrapping his own hands around Ayel's neck and squeezing the life out of him.

"Please, stop," chokes out Ayel as he frantically claws at Jim's hands and arms.

It's too late to beg. It didn't do the crew any good. It didn't do Leonard any good when he begged for them to spare the First Officer's life.

"Jim, please."

The second Jim realizes it's not Ayel, rather Chekov he's trying to kill, is the same second a large hand comes down hard on Jim's shoulder, yanking him back violently to allow enough room for a tight fist to soar in and clock him square in the nose. He folds to the ground with a sickening crack as blood sprays down his face.

"Chekov, can you hear me?" calls Commander Roberts frantically as the kid collapses to the ground wheezing hard and still not getting enough air despite Jim no longer choking him.

Roberts whips out his communicator. "This is Roberts, I need security to gymnasium four on the double and tell sickbay I'm coming in with an emergency." Roberts throws Chekov over his shoulder and runs out the door just as two large enforcers from security enter the gym.

Jim rolls over onto his back. Warm blood pours out of his probably broken nose, running down his face and pooling on the mat. He hurt Chekov and worse he's going to have to explain this one to Leonard and then beg Chekov's forgiveness.

* * *

Normally Leonard wouldn't be in sickbay this early but since Jim's usually off in astrometrics well into late morning on this day he agreed to let Donnavon off early. Serves him right for being nice. Now he has an emergency call to deal with. Leonard grabs his scanner just as Roberts comes running through the door.

"What happened?" demands Leonard, taking a look at Chekov.

"I don't know. I walked into the gym and he was being attacked," states Roberts, laying the ensign down on the nearest biobed.

Leonard starts running scans and injecting hypos. "His throat's swelling shut. I can counter act that. Just take slow deep breaths Chekov." Leonard breathes with him, demonstrating a slow and steady breathing pattern for Chekov to follow. The medication takes a few seconds before he's breathing better with only a slight wheezing sound.

"What idiot attacks someone on a starship?" asks Leonard. Judging by Roberts's look, he's not going to like the answer.

* * *

_'_ _Captain Pike of the USS Enterprise to Starfleet Command. We found the castaway on Delta Vega. You're not going to believe this.'_

* * *

Chekov fidgets as he sits on the biobed enduring one last scan by McCoy. He's still not sure what happened but it all feels like a big fuss when he's going to be fine. Worse McCoy looks like someone kicked him and Chekov can't help but feel like maybe it's his fault.

"He shouldn't have done this," says Leonard, like it's his fault the day all went to hell. "He shouldn't have been training you to start with. You're completely in your right to file a complaint," insists McCoy because even if Chekov doesn't know better, god damn it, Jim does.

Chekov shakes his head frantically. "No. It's fine." He's nervous because now probably isn't the best time to ask, but he has to know. "Could Jim please meet me again next week for practice?" They have a great thing going on, it would be a shame to lose it over one mistake.

McCoy gives him an assessing gaze. "We're obviously going to have to do a brain scan."

"Please?" Jim's the first person to really give him any attention in regard to teaching. Most people just assume that Chekov will figure things out because he's smart. Sometimes he still needs guidance.

"We'll see," grumbles Leonard. He's pissed that this happened, that Jim was ever in a position that this could happen and worse someone like Chekov was along for the ride. Then there's the little fact that Jim's been lying to him once a week for who knows how long? If Spock doesn't kill Jim or lock him up and throw away the key, Leonard just might. Still he can't help feel that this dangerous, idiotic, fight club has been doing Jim some good.

* * *

Jim's stuck using the sleeve of his shirt to try and stem the bleeding as he waits in the brig for someone from sickbay to show up. He prays to god it's not Leonard. Security seems un-inclined to tell him if Chekov is alright or not. So he sits and waits, enjoying the throbbing pain taking over his face in some morose punishment for letting his grip on reality slip.

It's Leonard who walks into the brig, medkit in hand, because Jim's day couldn't possibly get worse. He looks pissed and Jim wonders if maybe the force-field locking him in here is for his protection not his confinement.

Leonard nods to the security guard who immediately drops the force-field. Jim sits up straighter on the hard metal bench leaving room for Leonard to sit down if he doesn't plan on murdering Jim first.

"Just tell me Chekov is going to be okay," pleads Jim, like the dying wish of a man on death row.

Leonard runs his scanner over Jim. "He's going to be fine," he snaps. The scanner beeps and he looks at the readings. "Your nose is broken," he reports reaching into his kit and grabbing a hypo to stab in Jim's neck.

Jim breathes a sigh of relief as the hypo takes the edge off. Leonard always has the best drugs.

"This is going to hurt," warns Leonard as he puts Jim's nose back in place before running an osteo-regenerator over his nose.

"Ow! You enjoyed that," says Jim, aiming for some kind of levity.

"What the hell were you thinking?" snaps Leonard. "You could have killed him!"

"I wasn't thinking. That's the problem. One minute we were sparring and then next... All I could see was Ayel. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else."

"Yeah, see that part I get. That's not what I'm talking about, Jim. What were you doing sparring in the first place? Not only could something like this happen but you could seriously hurt yourself."

"I know you'd feel better if I lived in a bubble but I need to live some kind of life, Bones," complains Jim.

"This isn't about living in a bubble. This is about incurring needless risks." Jim might think this is what rock bottom looks like but Leonard is cursed with the medical knowledge of all the ways Jim's life could get worse.

"What's going to happen? I'm going to get a bum leg? A shoulder that likes to dislocate with the minimalist of pressure? The worst has happened, I've already lost everything I was working for. Might as well have a little fun before I die," protests Jim even if Leonard's probably his only ally.

It's not that Leonard doesn't want Jim to do the things that make him happy or that he thinks Jim can't do them. He knows beyond a doubt Jim can do anything he puts his mind to. It's watching hope die in Jim's eyes time and time again when he inevitably believes he can get everything he had back and finds out once again that no, there are certain limitations he can't overcome. Leonard's good but there will eventually come a time when even he can't put Jim's pieces back together again. "Jim."

"I know. It's just... He wasn't asking me to help him because he felt sorry for me. He wasn't trying to make Jim Kirk feel useful. For one hour I was just Jim, a guy that was able to help. And it meant something. Until it all went to hell like usual." Jim crosses his arms, looking sullen and defeated. Sometimes his worst enemy isn't the messed up leg, or the emotional and mental instability that are equal parts PTSD and a parting gift from Nero's little torture slug, it's his need to see himself as he was.

Leonard contemplates the wisdom in what he's about to say. Maybe it's time to stop worrying about the fallout and just enjoy the ride. He gently bumps his shoulder against Jim's. "Despite everything, the kid still wants to meet you in the gym next week for another session. Obviously he's not as bright as everyone makes him out to be."

"Bones?" There's a hesitant smile threatening to make an appearance.

God damn it, doesn't Leonard just feel like he's the parent standing in the way of a kid getting a puppy. "Ground rules, Jim," warns Leonard.

"Absolutely, anything you want," assures Jim, raising his hand in solemn promise.

"No more than twenty minutes and you come to medical right after for a scan of your leg. I want to be on top of any damage you might be enduring. You two are never alone. I don't care who you get as a third but someone will be there to keep things like this from happening again."

"You got it."

Leonard has no idea how he's going to sell any of this to the Captain or smooth things over with the First Officer.


	10. Chapter 10

McCoy's not in the mood for this. Every last one of his patience died a horrible slow agonizing death before breakfast and anything other than simply minding the store today is insult to injury. "I'm pretty sure we have some junior medics that would love this sort of thing," complains McCoy as he falls in line between Spock and Uhura. He does a quick self pat down to make sure he grabbed everything he'll need. It's a day that reeks of doom on the horizon.

"We are the first members of the Federation to survey the planet. There will be many specimens to collect and catalogue," replies Spock with carefully concealed Vulcan enthusiasm.

McCoy throws his hands in the air. "Exactly! Busy work."

"It will be nice to get off the ship," says Uhura, looking forward to a little sunshine.

"Until the foliage tries to eat you or you find out the hard way the rocks are poisonous or the wildlife secretes a fluid that melts your face off," huffs McCoy. He's not going out that way, he's simply not.

A few heads turn as the trio passes through the corridor towards the transporter room. 'Loud' conversations happen all the time between the doctor and crew but it never fails to draw a few concealed glances and pique curiosity.

"And barring all that, we might find a nice quiet planet for some shore leave," continues Uhura dreamily. "Think about how nice it might be to lie around in the sun and have a picnic."

"And just what do you think the statistical probability is that _we'd_ find a pleasure planet and not a death trap waiting to spring? asks McCoy, irritably.

"Approximately..." starts Spock.

"Don't say it!" warns McCoy cutting off his captain. "It was rhetorical, Spock."

The doors to the transporter room open. Two security guards prepped for the away mission are waiting patiently with the transporter technician.

"Hopefully the fresh air will make you less cranky," giggles Uhura, stepping onto the pad.

McCoy hangs back slightly as the security guards step on the pad. He hates today and he certainly hates this.

"Come along doctor. Our initial scans have found no glaring cause for concern," informs Spock.

McCoy side eyes the transporter. "Unnatural way to travel. Having your atoms spread all over the universe," he mutters, relenting and joining the away team on the pad.

Spock tilts his head. The doctor is being especially stubborn today and there's a danger it might disrupt Spock's inner calm. "Is there anything you do approve of?"

"I'll make a list and get back to you," sneers McCoy.

"It'll be a short list," snorts Uhura.

"I was perfectly happy where I was," defends McCoy.

"It is your rotation for the away team," reminds Spock. "Energize," he orders.

"Just don't come crying to me when something melts your face off," warns McCoy as the transporter hums to life.

* * *

"Ensign Remmi to Enterprise." The panicked call fills the bridge. "We need emergency transport. Alert medical, we have a critical patient."

* * *

The transporter has barely powered down and Spock is already three large strides away from the pad, clutching the limp body in his hands. There isn't time to wait for medical to meet them at the transporter room, every second counts. The medical team can meet him on the way or Spock will carry his dying crewman all the way to sickbay if he has to.

Uhura stumbles after them leaving the two security guards standing dumbfounded on the pad. There's so much blood. It's everywhere. There's a huge splatter pattern around the spot Spock was beamed back. It's dripping down the stairs that lead up to the pad in slow lazy drops; a red trail of terror that starts on a deceivingly peaceful planet and is quickly spiraling towards death's icy touch.

Uhura follows, unable to keep up with Spock's speed. She's numb, the world around her distant and grey as she makes her way to sickbay on nothing more than muscle memory and the trail of blood Leonard's leaving on the floor as Spock races to get him to sickbay.

This is all her fault. Leonard had been trying to save _her_. They had been down by the water on the dark brown sandy shore of a lazy river. She should have been paying more attention, not day dreaming about of spending a day off lounging in the lavender waters. Maybe then she would have noticed the large lizard/bear looking creature that unburied itself from the sand at the promise of an easy meal.

Leonard had noticed.

He pushed her out of the way of its massive jaws but failed to get himself out of the way of its immense claws. Uhura gets a little nauseous at the thought of those claws ripping through Leonard's chest and abdomen like modeling clay. She's not a doctor but even she knows it's bad- really bad.

The doors to sickbay slide open unleashing a fury of medics and machines. Uhura hangs by the door while M'Benga and his team set to work. Spock answers all their questions as he stands next to the biobed. It takes Uhura a moment to get past the bright red blood staining his blue uniform shirt to realize he hasn't moved because Leonard has a fist full of Spock's shirt still tightly gripped in his fist.

Leonard's still hanging on to consciousness as the medical team buzzes around him taking readings and trying to access the damage. He locks eyes with Uhura and the floor practically disappears from under her. She's too far away to hear the words he's mouthing but the naked fear in his eyes is unmistakable.

Everyone is too busy trying to save Leonard's life to take notice of the soft strained words. Uhura knows. She wants to turn away and shut out the horror but she owes it to him to hear what might be his dying declaration. It takes everything she has to slowly inch forward, careful to not get in the way of anyone engaged in the fight for Leonard's life.

Leonard releases Spock's shirt and grabs a hold of Uhura's hand with his blood stained one the second she's within reach. His grip surprises her; like holding on to her will keep the reaper from pulling him under.

"..im c-t ... out," Leoanrd chokes out, eyes pleading with Uhura to understand.

"What? I... I can't..." mumbles Uhura, words failing to make themselves available to either her brain or her mouth. More blood stains Leonard's teeth each time he coughs. It's the same color red that's all over her hands from when she tried to stem the bleeding after the attack, before Spock came rushing over to kill the beast and scoop the doctor up while shouting orders to the security team. The tears start to fall, fast and continuous. "I don't know what you're trying to say."

Leonard seems to rally for a moment, the chaos around them fading into the background. "Please," he begs, and Uhura wants to promise him with her whole being that he'll be alright, that this isn't the end. "Jim can't see me like this, he can't find out this way. It will break him. Promise me you won't let him see me like this. He can't have some stranger tell him it's over."

"We need to get him into surgery," says M'Benga, forcibly, all business and without remorse as he rips Leonard's hand from Uhura's.

Spock trails behind them helplessly until they pass through the doors to the surgical area while Uhura stays rooted by the biobed. There's blood on the bed and on the floor. There's so much of it. Leonard can't have that much left in him. All this because Leonard saved _her_ life.

"Tell me he's going to be okay?" she says coldly to the nurses still putting away things and trying to clean up any sign that an emergency disrupted sickbay. They keep their heads down, focused on their tasks like no one can bring themselves to say it out loud. There's no way some who lost that much blood is going to survive.

"Christine!" she yells, angry at the circumstances, angry at the world. _Jim can't find out like this. It will break him. Promise me you won't let him see me like this._ How could Leonard let himself be taken out by a giant lizard when he has obligations and people who care about and need him? "Tell me he's going to be alright," she demands. She will not be the one to tell Jim, Leonard died for her.

Christine looks back at Uhura sympathetically but doesn't say a word as she walks in to assist in the surgery.

Uhura wants to cry or collapse somewhere or both. She wants to scream and rage and scratch off every inch of her skin just to make all her feelings go away. She wants to curl her hands into fists but her fingers are stiff and seem to stick together. She looks down at her shaking hands. Blood. They're covered in drying blood.

Leonard's blood.

Uhura doesn't remember walking to a bathroom or how long she's been standing at the sink furiously scrubbing her hands and face; somewhere during this whole mess she managed to smear some blood across her cheek.

Spock appears behind her, his stoic and silent reflection in the mirror above the sink. He doesn't say a word just watches Uhura scrub away. He takes in every inch to make sure that Uhura is in fact safe. There was a split second after her scream that he had thought he lost her and a wave of regret picking away at every decision he's made since Vulcan was destroyed. There's a certain sense of relief to know that she is unharmed despite the tremendous concern he has for the doctor who is clinging to life in sickbay.

Uhura locks eyes with Spock in the mirror. "He shouldn't have to see Leonard's blood on me," she says.

"I can tell, Jim," offers Spock. It is his duty as captain to deliver horrible news to families. Even if it wasn't, he would do it to spare Uhura from having to be the one to do it.

Uhura wants to jump at the opportunity for anyone else to tell Jim that he might lose everything he holds dear because of her. But Leonard begged her not to let a stranger dump cold hard truth onto him. This is the least she can do for her friend; protect his husband when he is unable to. "It should come from me. Leonard asked me to do it."

* * *

The door chime rouses Jim from a peaceful sleep. He's not completely awake but enough to know return to his welcome slumber is in danger or ending. "Computer, relay do not disturb to the door," he mumbles, rolling over to snuggle back into the warm embrace of the blankets.

The door chimes again. "Go away!" yells Jim, like whoever is at the door might be able to hear him from the bedroom. He grabs the pillow and pulls it down over his face, covering his ears. The door chime persists.

"Alright I'm coming," snaps Jim throwing the pillow across the room. It's the middle of alpha shift, not exactly prime social hours and no one comes to see Jim anyways. He begrudgingly gets out of bed, every muscle pulling uncomfortably and protesting loudly at being ripped out of bed before earning any real rest. He grabs his cane from next to the bed and hobbles to the door.

"Uhura," he says, somewhat surprised. It's a pleasant surprise and not unwelcome if it is slightly odd. Uhura stops by about once a week, but never when Leonard isn't there. Jim's not delusional enough to think that she's invested in anything but Leonard's company.

His warm smile starts to melt as she just stands there looking broken and not saying a word. "Leonard's not here, he got tapped for an away mission," he says, the sinking feeling in his gut growing more, "but you know that."

Jim goes a shade lighter than white, turning and silently walking back to the living room. He falls boneless just before making it to the couch. Uhura follows and sits down across from him. The silence hangs heavy in the air, pressing down.

"Jim," starts Uhura. Despite her soft gentle tone her voice sounds like a screeching siren in the night. She tries to hold his hand, to offer some tether of comfort but he refuses to even look at her let alone hold her hand.

"No," says Jim. His shoulders start to shake and his eyes burn. Dread coils in his guts threatening to break through his skin and shatter him into a million pieces.

"There was an incident on the away mission." Uhura has to work hard to keep her voice from cracking. The anguish she managed to stomp down on her way to Jim's quarters is thrashing and tearing at its cage.

"No," says Jim a little louder, like he can stop the approaching freight train speeding towards him with his voice.

"Leonard... Leonard saved my life."

Jim's cane falls to the floor as he presses his hands against his ears. "No!" Because it's not true. Leonard's fine. He said so himself this morning when he told Jim he was going to be part of the away team. Everything is fine.

"Spock got him to sickbay as soon as possible. M'Benga and the team are some of the best but they don't..." She can't shake Nurse Chapel's look from her mind.

Jim struggles to get up off the floor. "I said NO!" He begins to frantically pace back and forth across the living room; denial driving every step. This can't be happening. It's not how their story is supposed to end. Not after everything they've been through. They're supposed to retire on that damn farm with Leonard constantly bitching about how unsanitary it is for Jim to bring the baby animals in the house and cupboards bursting with canned vegetables from the garden because Leonard won't let them go to waste.

Uhura's mouth clicks shut with an audible snap. She sits there awkward and out of place in Jim's quarters, like the one pristine vase that didn't fall and shatter on the floor during an earthquake with all the others. Failure is piling up around her today and it's costing people their souls.

Jim stops sharply during his latest pass, turning to look at Uhura. "He promised!" accuses Jim switching from sorrow to fiery rage. He picks up the PADDs and a picture frame sitting on the coffee table and throws them against the wall. They hit with a tremendous bang before falling onto the floor and breaking into pieces.

Uhura flinches at the noise.

Jim storms into the bedroom babbling in half broken sentences and heated words. "Not our agreement," and "we had a deal."

She wipes at her tears that never seem to end and moves towards the mess left on the floor. She kneels down, careful of the broken glass and sharp edges. The PADDs are ruined and the frame is in too many pieces to count. The picture's torn and tattered along the edges, not enough to obscure the image of Leonard and Jim laughing while sitting on a stack of hay bales trying to hold a handful of baby chicks still for the photo.

She tucks the photo away in her dress. If the worst happens today, she'd rather remember Leonard this way than drenched in his own blood.

Jim comes out with an arm full of uniform shirts and begins tearing at the sleeves. "They can't have him. He promised me forever. Can't marry me if we don't make it out of here," he repeats like a broken recording. He's laser focused on ripping the treacherous silver rank stripes from Leonard's shirts. They won't take Leonard if they think he's a nobody.

"Jim," pleads Uhura moving to stand next to him. "You have to stop." Whatever he's trying to do, it's not going to end well and it's certainly not going to help the situation.

"You can't have him!" snarls Jim, shoving Uhura hard. She topples off balance and falls firmly on her ass, Jim throwing one of the shirts at her. He storms off out of his quarters leaving Uhura sitting there alone.


	11. Chapter 11

Jim walks numbly down the corridor. He has no idea where he's going, he just knows he can't stay in a place he shared with Leonard. There are enough ghosts haunting him, he doesn't need his husband to be another one. There's no attention paid to the looks of confusion or pity the crewmen wear as he wanders on autopilot, but he knows they're there. He can feel the sympathy pouring off of them in never ending waves that threaten to drown Jim. They all want something from him- to ease his pain, to offer comfort in bid to obtain it for themselves. Jim has nothing left to give them, to give anyone.

He's angry. How dare Leonard see fit to leave him in this world alone? What is there every morning, if not Leonard? Jim's a ship without a course and no stars to navigate by now. The anger turns to shame which explodes in him with enough power to replace the warp core. Leonard's dead and all he can think about is how it effects him, how his world has just blinked out of existence. All the regrets he's spent his life ignoring because there was still time to make it right pile up around him.

What's he going to say to Joanna? Jim made her promises too. Who's going to walk her down the aisle one day? The anger's back because god damn it, that should be Leonard. Something so simple and universally trivial yet it carves out a deep cavernous ache within Jim. He can picture the moment so clearly. Joanna will look radiant in her dress, simple but flattering as it defines and highlights every curve that reminds them all she is a woman now. She'll be calm, cool and poised with that steely McCoy determination that this is the exact path she should be on. Leonard will be- he would have been, nervous; constantly fiddling with his cufflinks to hide the fact that the surgeon's steady hands were shaking. He'd be proud and happy for her but inside he'd be worrying that now someone else will be responsible for protecting his little girl and would they make her happy the rest of her days.

Joanna wouldn't notice it, but Jim would. He would have had to place his hands on Leonard's tense shoulders and remind him to breathe and enjoy the moment. He'd kiss the back of Leonard's neck and whisper, "It will all work out." Because it has to work out for someone. Jim would straighten Leonard's tie and give him a gentle shove in the back when the music started to play and he didn't immediately take his first step forward to walk her down the aisle. Then Jim would stand there at the back of the venue as Leonard gave Joanna a kiss on the cheek before letting her future spouse take her hand. He'd probably shed a single tear as the happy couple recited their heartfelt vows and when it was all over and everyone had moved outside for pictures, he'd walk over to Leonard still sitting at the front of the church and sit next to him. They'd hold hands and take a moment to picture themselves having a proper and formal wedding. Jim would mutter, "It would have been beautiful," because while he never pictured a traditional wedding, he'd be swept up in all the love and happiness of the day and Leonard looks damn good in a tux. Leonard would sigh and agree, "It would have," before Joanna walks back in to drag them out for a family picture.

Jim hadn't realized how much he was counting on this moment until now when he realizes can't have it anymore. All the simple dreams like playing with future grandchild that one assumes will come to fruition are all wiped away. Reality is a cold bitch.

He should go to sickbay. His body knows the way, it's practically ingrained in his being, but there's a body there he can't bring himself to identify; a firm prescribed dose of non-ignorable reality. He's seen Leonard righteously pissed off, overjoyed, beaten, broken and desperate. He's even seen that blissful unguarded smile that appears in the few precious moments between sleep and awake when it's just the two of them curled in bed and Leonard's forgotten the universe and its problems exist. Lifeless and free from this mortal coil can't be on that list too. Not after all the hurdles they've managed to clear thus far.

This is Jim's fault. He might not hold the rank of captain anymore but Leonard still lets him call the shots like he's in charge. Case in point, being on the Enterprise at all. If Jim hadn't pushed, Leonard would have held fast to his refusal and they'd be on the farm right now arguing about why Jim felt the need to bring ducks home or how many times Leonard has to wash the floors because Jim keeps traipsing through the house with his shoes on after rummaging around the barn and tracked mud in. _Safe._

Instead Jim made the call to come, to try and reclaim something that's so clearly lost. Starfleet said he wasn't fit to make command decisions. Doctors, psychologists and even friends said his reasoning skills are impaired and clouded. And still, Leonard lets him get his way whenever possible. Jim's mistakes seem to cost more than he's willing to pay.

His arm starts to itch and ache. He promised. No giving up or easy ways out, no leaving Leonard to pick up the pieces. Leonard's not here and there's nobody else interested in Jim's pieces. Jim's bound to nothing now and free to reengage the train wreck that is his life. It's poetic, to be here on the starship where it all began and will now so tragically end. His body must sense it's its natural narrative because after wandering aimlessly for two hours, he's put himself directly in front of the lounge.

Leonard made promises too; forever, to never leave Jim alone and no matter what they will always have each other, so obviously neither one of them is very good at keeping their word. Jim doesn't even feel guilty when he finishes off his first glass of Rye and orders another one.

It's synthohol so the bartender isn't going to cut him off. And that's Jim's secret weapon. Jim's aiming to make a lot of bad decisions tonight before his curse spills out on to the crew of the Enterprise.

* * *

_Federation news update: The planet Vulcan was destroyed today during an attack by a war criminal called Nero. The rescue fleet was saved along with thousands of Vulcan survivors thanks to a distress signal sent from the officers taken captive from the USS Troubadour. Heavy casualties were still encored. Ships are currently in pursuit of the attacking vessel to rescue the captives of the USS Troubadour and bring Nero to justice._

* * *

M'Benga pulls out a miracle and Leonard rallies through surgery. He's by no means out of the woods but the medical staff and ship crew can breathe a fraction easier.

"Honestly, a lot can still go wrong but if he makes it through the night I believe he can make it the rest of the way up the mountain," reports M'Benga.

"What kind of recovery is he looking at?" asks Uhura. She's been sitting in sickbay with Spock all afternoon, or perhaps Spock has been sitting with her. Jim hasn't tried to come see Leonard which is good because Leonard's been in surgery and she doubts sitting here staring at a set of doors separating Leonard from them would be beneficial to Jim. Selfishly she doesn't want to have to enforce Leonard's wish of not letting Jim see him in this state either. She also has no idea where Jim stormed off to, which is troubling, but one thing at a time. Uhura needed to be here, both for Leonard and so she has something to tell Jim.

M'Benga looks remorseful. "It's a big mountain. We should probably take it one day at a time. He was lucky. We've all been really lucky so far."

Uhura nods. She doesn't feel particularly lucky but they're not planning a funeral yet so she guesses that's something. "Can he have visitors?"

"I don't think it would be in Leonard or Jim's best interest to bring Jim in today," says M'Benga with a sad smile. Uhura frowns a little. "Leonard's said a few things and since he technically can't be the active physician for family or dependants, I have Jim's medical files. I think we should wait until there are fewer devices hooked up to Leonard and he's awake before Jim sees him. A panic attack or episode right now would be harmful to both of them," explains M'Benga. Leonard's said more than a few things, he actually laid out a series of scenarios and how they should be handled. "Has his daughter been informed?"

"I will make arrangements to contact his family on Earth," says Spock. The mood sinks a little more. Somewhere there's a young woman who's about to have her world come to a screeching halt as well.

"I should go tell Jim... something," says Uhura. She didn't get a chance to say much beyond there was an accident before Jim stormed off. She's not sure how to handle any of this. Technically as his husband Jim has a right to know what's going on and have a say. But if the incident in his quarters is a sneak peak of how things are going to go, M'Benga's right about it not helping Leonard at all. Jim's not even Leonard's medical proxy. He assigned that duty to the ship's captain before he even really met Spock. "Computer, locate Jim McCoy."

"Jim McCoy is currently in the observation deck lounge," chirps the computer, dutifully.

She heads there, her stomach in knots.

The lounge doesn't serve alcohol, rather synthahol given that all the patrons are officers who could be called back to duty at a moment's notice. There's still something satisfying about the idea of drinking and the suggestive effects the drinks offer. She's rather surprised to see Jim looking actually drunk on a bar stool between Scotty and Sulu.

"It's uhu- uh- Uhura!" slurs Jim as he catches sight of her. He raises his glass high in the air, the contents spilling over the brim as he waves the glass around. He'd fall off the stool completely if not for Scotty holding him up.

It pisses Uhura off. Spock and her have been waiting in sickbay making themselves sick with worry and Jim's in a bar being an annoying happy drunk- a drunk she really doesn't want to have to babysit. This is the selfish arrogant ass she remembers from the academy.

"Uh-oh she looks mad," sings Jim in a drunken whisper. Sulu give him a sad smile. "Wanna join us?" he asks as Uhura marches over to their section of the bar.

"No and I think you've had enough. How are you even drunk?" she demands. The benefit of synthohol is feeling drunk without being drunk and being able to shake that feeling at a moment's notice. A moment like a pissed off Lieutenant looking like she wants to murder you. Jim's _drunk_ drunk which means either he has his own personal stash of alcohol somewhere or Sulu or most likely Scotty is plying him with the real stuff.

"He was like this when we got here," says Sulu, sensing they're about to be in trouble.

"It's the drugs," enthuses Jim with a gorpy smile.

Uhura wants to bang her head against the table. She's tired, wrecked and on edge herself, she doesn't need these kinds of complications. "What drugs?" she demands, exasperated. It's only been a couple of hours and already she might have to drag Jim to medical for a drug detox.

"The ones that keep me from being a complete basket case," explains Jim slamming back the last few swallows in his glass. "Side effects may include, adverse reaction to synthohol," he says like he's reciting a warning label from memory.

Uhura looks at Scotty and Sulu. "Can you guys give us a minute?" They look at each other, a silent conversation between. Sulu nods and he and Scotty grab their glasses and move a couple of stools down. Enough to give them space but close enough in case they're needed. Jim slumps over the bar counter running his finger through a puddle of condensation that formed around his glass, looking morose and dejected now that his friends have gone. Uhura sits down next to him waving the bartender away as he approaches to take her order.

"He's dead, isn't he?" asks Jim, hollow and broken. The words burn like acid; seeping into every molecule of his being and carving him from the inside out. This is the confirmation he knew was coming since Uhura knocked on his door earlier today; the hard conversation where she tries to drill that fact into his addled and damaged brain. He always hated the Kobayashi Maru and Leonard's death is his own personal version.

Uhura kind of wants to get drunk now too but someone has to be in their right mind. She wishes she had better news for him. "He made it through surgery, but we'll have to see if he makes it through the night."

Jim closes his eyes to try and hold the tears back. He's not sure if hovering near death is better news. On one hand there's hope but on the other it just feels like prolonging the inevitable. The universe is infinitely cruel as far as Leonard is concerned.

Jim should have been there. He promised Leonard he'd have his back. And he didn't because he can't keep his shit together which got him disbarred from Starfleet. Now Leonard's paying the price. The scar curling up his arm starts to burn.

The silence stretches on leaving both to stew in their own impotence.

"I fucked up," confesses Jim, sniffling.

"You weren't even there, Jim," counters Uhura. Leonard could die because he saved her. If anyone gets to wear the blame crown, it starts with her.

Jim shakes his head. "No. The first time in a long time Leonard needs me and I go out and get drunk. He hates it when I drink. I promised I would never have more than half a glass and even then it has to be synthohol and under his supervision. "

"I'm sure he'll understand given the circumstances."

Jim rolls his eyes and rolls up his sleeve exposing the pink scar running down his arm. "I make bad decisions when I'm drunk." He knows Leonard will forgive him because Leonard always forgives him. Even when he doesn't deserve it; especially when he doesn't deserve it. Assuming Leonard makes it at all.

"I'm classified as unstable, with notes of PSTD, emotional instability and paranoid delusions to give it that full body flavour," says Jim. Uhura gives him her undivided attention but he can't bring himself to look her in the eye. "It's mostly the result of brain damage from this parasite slug thing Nero used to torture us with. They all tell me it's not my fault I can't function like normal." Jim squints his eye like he's working out a long mathematical problem in his head. "It's like eighty percent brain damage and twenty percent my own shit that I need to work through."

Uhura's not sure she's in a place to hear the details of something that so clearly broke someone as stubborn and thick headed as James Kirk. The moron attempted the Kobayashi Maru twice and planned on going back for a third time had he and Leonard not taken the field positions on the Troubadour that spring. Whatever happened, it was bad. If Jim needs to speak about it though, she'll listen tonight.

"I didn't do the work, you know? All the councillors and physical therapists, I dropped them the first chance I could, before they even finished the sentence explaining that I wouldn't be the same as before. I just felt that, if I can't get back to one hundred percent then why bother?" laments Jim, looking pained. "See the leg and the shoulder didn't bother Starfleet that much. There were ways to work around them and still keep me on a starship. It was the random mental instability that had them concerned. And given some of the incidents that happened they were probably right to be concerned. They don't happen all the time, obviously. I can even regulate them a little more with a couple extra medications. But what if that twenty percent was the difference between me getting kicked out and staying? What if that twenty percent that I refuse to work on is the difference between me sitting here wondering if Leonard's going to live or me still having a commission on a ship that would have put me on that planet with him today?"

Uhura signals the bartender to pour her a drink. "And what if I had just looked to my left?"

* * *

M'Benga comes to personally explain Leonard's status. Jim gets lost in all the technical terms looking to his left for Leonard to explain them, only he's not there. Jim just nods along like it makes sense because in the end none of it matters as long as Leonard's alright.

The doctor gives Jim a supply of sedatives to get him through the week. Jim accepts them with a sad smile because it was Leonard who put in the order for them should anything like this happen to him. Leonard's gravely injured and he's still finding ways to take of Jim.

"Leonard was fairly adamant that it would be best to not come to sickbay," says M'Benga in that typical physician voice meant to keep the situation calm. "But if you insist, I can make arrangements for you to come in and sit with him."

Jim wants to argue; if a crazed Romulan and near death couldn't separate them before, M'Benga has little chance of being successful now. But Jim knows deep down M'Benga's probably right; that Leonard's foresight is almost certainly correct. The last thing he needs is for the medical team to be dealing with his shit instead of taking care of Leonard.

God Jim wishes he had his shit together, that he was able to just be _normal_ for awhile. Whoever thought the ability to walk into sickbay and sit beside a dying lover was something people took for granted? Even Jim knows walking into sickbay is going to ignite all of the triggers he barely manages to keep a handle on never mind the ones he doesn't even know exist yet. It kills that the best thing for Leonard is to stay away.

"No," says Jim bitterly. Leonard's always brave for both of them, Jim can give it a shot for a couple days. "Who's making the medical decisions?" He really hopes it's not Joanna. She's too young to have to pick up Jim's slack, especially when it's her father's life on the line.

"The captain," replies M'Benga, "as per Leonard's request."

Jim just nods. He'd like to say the sting of betrayal is warranted at his husband for making someone else his caretaker but Jim can't say it's not unjustified. Nor can he deny a certain sense of relief of knowing he'll never have to be the one to say when enough is enough. There's Leonard again, making sure his family's protected. Leonard has the foresight for all of it and all Jim has to do is try and keep it together. He can't help but feel he has the harder job.

So Jim stays away. He cancels his appointment in the gym with Chekov and opens his reserved time slot in astrometrics. He spends his time pacing the confines of their quarters because he doesn't trust himself enough to stay away should he leave or to maintain the tenuous grip he has on reality. He's white knuckling every moment.

Chekov drops off a PADD every morning outside his door with M'Benga's daily evaluation and vid message from Joanna. She knows Jim won't take the transmission in person but leaves a positive message for him to view when he feels he's ready.

She talks about school and the orchestra, about how she's adjusting to life at school and being on her own for the first time. It's a nice distraction; a moment to forget that the largest piece of their puzzle is missing.

Sulu leaves dinner for Jim outside the door too. Uhura brings it in when she stops by after shift to make sure that Jim's alive and not jello on the floor. She spends most of the time tidying the place as she waters down Leonard's condition. It's fine because Jim's not up to talking much anyways. He just has to keep it together- for Leonard.

* * *

It's after shift and Spock's on his way back from sickbay when he sees Jim wandering the corridor. He's glaring at the crewmen which are giving him a wide birth as they pass. Spock can't make out the litany that's pouring from Jim's lips but his rigid stance suggests he's rather agitated.

"Is there something I can help you with Mr McCoy?" asks Spock in the most accommodating tone a Vulcan can implement.

"Where is he?" demands Jim, hanging onto the wall the best he can since his leg doesn't seem to be interested in supporting his weight.

"Who?"

"You know damn well who!" Jim snarls. His hands clench at his sides.

"I assure, I do not." Spock wracks his brain and comes up with the most logical answer. "Are you looking to see Dr McCoy in sickbay?"

Something wild flashes in Jim's eyes and Spock has mere seconds to move out of the way before a fist comes flying at his head. The second fist connects. It's not hard enough to do any damage despite Jim's best effort. The intent to cause serious harm is evident even if he doubts Jim has the strength to go toe to toe with a Vulcan and win.

"Don't say his name. You don't get to say his name!" screams Jim as he tackles Spock to the ground. "Just give him back you Romulan bastard!"

Crewmen gather around to see what the commotion is all about and try to help their captain. Jim just starts throwing punches at whoever is within arm's length.

Someone is going to get seriously hurt and Spock must do something to protect everyone involved. He reaches up while Jim is busy taking a swing at Ensign Waller and implements the Vulcan nerve pinch.

Jim crumples to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of horribleness in the world right now. Hopefully this can take your minds off of it for a few minutes.  
> As someone who has to go to work through this and in the public to help people get their daily supplies I just want to remind everyone to stay safe out there, protect yourselves and help protect all those who's jobs still have to continue to keep people going from doctor and nurses to truck drivers, grocery store workers and janitors and everyone else.


	12. Chapter 12

"What the hell happened?" shouts Leonard, going wide eyes as Spock walks into sickbay with Jim limply slung over his shoulder. He knows he shouldn't try and get out of bed but damn it, it's Jim.

M'Benga holds his hand up halting any effort on Leonard's part to sit up. It doesn't take much. He quickly goes over to the biobed the captain deposits Jim on and starts running his tricorder over the patient.

"He was quite agitated and was becoming violent. I had to subdue him before he caused any real harm to himself or the crew," states Spock. "I utilized the Vulcan nerve pinch. He should be fine in a few hours."

"You nerve pinched my husband?" says Leonard, rather affronted. He's been unconscious for three days and the captain is already assaulting his husband- warranted or not.

Spock stands by his decision. "It seemed the least intrusive method to subdue him."

"And just why did he need subduing at all?" accuses Leonard. Jim, now more than ever, needs to be handled with kid gloves, gloves which most people don't even know they need to put on.

"I believe he was looking for you. He also accused me of being Romulan." Spock raises an eyebrow like he can't believe someone could mistake the two species.

Leonard lets out a long breath. He can't blame anyone for their reaction, even if he finds rendering Jim unconscious to be a little extreme; Jim doesn't exactly come with a user manual. "Yeah, that'll do it."

Spock looks at Leonard sceptically.

"We were part of the crew compliment that managed to make it to the shuttles on the Troubadour when Nero attacked. They took everyone on those shuttles prisoner," says Leonard. For all he worries about Jim's triggers and hang ups, retelling their story is one of his. Even if he skims over the painful parts he hates the way people look at him- look at Jim afterwards. Still, he's going to be laid up in sickbay for awhile and he needs them to understand what they're dealing with, if for nothing more than to keep Jim out of sickbay or the brig.

"I have seen the files," says Spock moving closer to Leonard's biobed.

Leonard's sure he has. The whole incident is a required case study at the academy and every command officer in service was brought up to speed on events even if the names of the survivors have since been sealed. The basic information's present in Leonard's file since he's an active member of Starfleet. Jim's file is still sealed with a very altered abridged version available. He knows Pike only gave Spock the 'Jim McCoy' abridged version. "What they don't tell you is Jim's the one that got the distress call out. Jim's the one that kept us alive. So when he's stressed and under pressure like when he thinks his husband is going to die he starts to forget where he is. And then someone with pointed ears comes along and it's very easy for him to end up back on that ship where they used to torture us for information or to punish the others," explains Leonard. He clenches his hand into a fist under the blanket to stop it from shaking.

"He's James Kirk," states Spock. The name is infamous for many reasons but it's mostly synonymous with the Nero incident. That warning not only saved Spock and the rest of the crew of the Enterprise but the lives of every Vulcan that managed to flee the planet before it was destroyed. Spock never had the honour of meeting the Troubadour survivors, being recalled by Starfleet before the Enterprise was sent on the rescue mission. It never occurred to him that he was in the presence of _Jim_ Kirk, whom had essentially disappeared a couple of years after the rescue.

Leonard nods. His mouth goes dry and he struggles to swallow. He lives his life by not thinking about it; once was more than enough. Jim on the other hand has no choice but to relieve it- often. "I understand if you want to terminate our agreement and find yourself a new CMO. I can't promise this won't happen again."

Spock's not sure if he'll regret it or not but he decides to take a leap of faith Captain Pike so often spoke. "You may stay."

* * *

"Spock, what is it this time?" asks Pike with fake irritation. He'd much rather deal with ship's business than deciding what beach activity to wander through but Spock doesn't need to know that. Retirement loses its lustre once you realize the vacation is permanent and not just a vacation.

"You knew Jim McCoy was actually James Kirk," accuses Spock.

A small smile plays at Pike's lips. "I was beginning to think you were slipping."

"Why the deception?" Spock can't make the best decisions if he doesn't have all the available facts.

"Starfleet command thought it was in the best interest of the survivors to keep their names and faces out the press. Give them some privacy after. And there was no guarantee they were going to stay in service. In fact, I think McCoy and one other are the only ones serving. Kirk's name got out because he was already the son of a hero, and people wanted a hero after all that death. They gave him command of the USS Michigan to perpetuate the fairy tale of the golden boy and sent him on his way. We should have been paying more attention," says Pike sadly.

Spock followed the careers of those involved with as much interest as any officer. Captain Kirk held command of the Michigan for a year and then officially retired. Rumour and ship talk indicated he was court-martialled and dismissed by Starfleet. Seeing the pattern now, he can see how the service file of one James McCoy matches that of James T Kirk.

"After the incident on the Michigan, Starfleet decided it couldn't look the other way anymore even if he was the Federation's trophy. To save face they said he retired. His files were sealed and an alternate file using Jim McCoy was created. It was a mess but it was a mess we all created." There's something remorseful in Pike's voice, like he bears a portion of the responsibility mentioned. "If Jim is ever going to get the fresh start he deserves, he needs to be free of his own shadow."

"You believe I will make different decisions because I know it is him?"

"You're already re-calculating," accuses Pike.

"I told them they could stay," counters Spock, as though he's still capable of countering Pike's game.

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" asks Pike, sitting up a little straighter and looking more interested. Jim is messy human emotion incarnate, it would be easier to simply cut it out of the equation.

Spock thinks back to all the things he's heard from his senior staff and especially Uhura. Spock would be more than justified to revoke his deal with Dr McCoy but there's a strange element present that wasn't there before. He has seen improvement in his senior staff and it seems to start when they begin to interact with Leonard and Jim. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

* * *

Gamma shift is by its very nature, slow and quiet. There's minimal staff and the environmental setting are set to simulate evening. It's a good time for rookies to gain solo experience and season professionals like Christine to catch up on paper work. With only one patient in sickbay, there's just Nurse Chapel, Nurse Philips and Dr Zeal on staff this shift. Philips is on lunch and Zeal's holding up in his office all night except for his scheduled check in on the patient, so Chapel is very alone as she putters around restocking for alpha shift.

She heads to bay five to do a vitals check on McCoy and nearly drops her PADD in shock. McCoy isn't alone. She doesn't know when Jim managed to sneak into sickbay but he's sitting next to McCoy's biobed holding his hand and carrying a quiet one side conversation while McCoy sleeps.

Chapel stands there quietly.

"Sorry I haven't been to see you until now. But you know how well I deal with this," says Jim, gently stroking his thumb across McCoy's knuckles. "You'll be happy to know, your pain in the ass friends are looking after me. Sulu's feeding and watering me and I'm sure he'd take me for a walk if he could. Scotty thinks he's pretty clever, like I didn't find his subroutine to monitor my vitals in quarters. And Uhura's a real pain. She keeps stopping by and giving me updates even though I locked her out. So you don't have to worry about me, just worry about you."

Jim lowers his head to rest it on Leonard's shoulder, careful of all the bandages and sensors. It's not comfortable but the steady reassuring beat of Leonard's heart lulls him into a light sleep for the first time in five days; enforced nap from a certain Vulcan notwithstanding.

* * *

Standing in front of McCoy's door waiting, is becoming an undesired habit. Spock is just about to leave when the door finally opens. Jim stands there leaning against the door frame, looking rather unkempt in clothes that are so loose on him. Spock suspects they don't belong to him.

"You're not Scotty," accuses Jim.

"I am not," agrees Spock. He stands there under Jim's intense glare.

"Are you here in an official capacity?" hedges Jim, crossing his arms.

"No. I am here of my own volition."

Jim stands up a little straighter, emphasising the tense lines of his body. "Are you looking for some kind of apology? Because _you_ nerve pinched _me_."

The already defensive nature of the conversation is making Spock reconsider his visit. "Apologies are a human sentiment. Should events have required one, I assure I would not find it necessary."

"You wouldn't find it necessary to give one, or to receive one?" asks Jim, to be especially annoying. The guy nerve pinched him after all. It was hardly a fair move. Spock raises an eyebrow. "What's in the case?" asks Jim.

"I thought we could play chess this evening if you were amendable to the idea. If you are not instructed in the game, I could teach you."

Jim chews on his bottom lip as he considers the offer. "Drew the short straw on babysitting duty?"

"I assure you, there were no straws drawn."

Jim uncrosses his arms, shaking his head. "Can't say no to a captain." He heads to the living room leaving Spock to follow after.

Spock follows. Jim stands protectively in the middle of the living room which is decorated in a manner Spock is unaccustomed to. The human home he's most familiar with is Uhura's. During the course of their relationship, they would often have meals with her human friends not affiliated with Starfleet. None of those dwellings chose to have a tent like structure made of blankets at their center. It seems an odd choice since the quarters do have a bedroom.

"You can set up in the dining room," instructs Jim, waiting until Spock has left the living room before following.

Spock begins unpacking the board and assembling the pieces. Jim waits at the opposite end of the table until Spock has finished and sat down. It doesn't go unnoticed that Jim seems both tense and strategically placing himself to sit where he has the most available exit options.

"Do you require..." starts Spock as Jim reaches over and moves his knight in a bold and aggressive opening gambit.

"Your move," replies Jim.

Spock tips his head. Clearly no instruction will be necessary.

The game goes on for two hours, which is almost twice as long as most humans Spock plays. There's a recklessness to Jim's game that makes Spock work twice as hard to find the logic to. While they do not speak of anything other than the game when what few words they exchange are uttered, the evening doesn't seem unpleasant. For his part, Jim doesn't exactly relax through the evening but as Spock goes to leave for the night asks, "When are we playing again?"

Spock will take that as a win and an invitation to play again next week.

* * *

It's late and Uhura's plagued with a tiredness she hasn't been able to shake since the away mission. Normally she doesn't take to wandering the ship at night but she's desperate for a change of scenery. It's the shadow sitting in front of the observation deck window that catches her eye. It's a pretty distinct shadow, what with the cane and all. Jim's probably awake for the same reason. Misery loves company, so she ventures over and sits down beside him.

He gives her a small smile, nothing more. They sit there, silently watching the universe fly by. It's oddly comforting- being alone together. The silence and darkness of existence, somehow manageable with her knee bumping someone else's.

"We couldn't see the stars on Nero's ship," whispers Jim.

Uhura looks over at Jim, but he keeps his eyes on the window. He looks small and fragile. She's never given it much thought, what it must have been like. Technically it could happen to any of them at any time but it probably won't and that seems to be all the comfort she needs to continue to do her job.

"It's funny how something so trivial can be so important. It's hard to mark the passage of time without some sign that the world exists. It's even harder to tell if you're still alive. That's how I first knew we were rescued. My room in medical on Starbase Nine had a window. I looked out and I knew it was over. I can remember as a kid lying out in the fields at night just looking up at the stars and feeling like my dad was up there, looking out for me. The stars make me feel like I'm not alone. And I know if I'm going to die, I die alone," explains Jim. "There are no stars in hell."

Jim looks down when he feels Uhura's hand settle on his knee. She's on his bad side, which would normally make him skittish but somehow feels okay.

"They broke my leg when I sent that first distress call. Not because they knew I was the one that sent it, but just on principle. Someone had sent a message and they were going to find out who one way or another. It broke in two spots when Ayel stomped on it. The worse part, they wouldn't let Bones do anything for it other than splint it. He tried his best but the damn thing healed wrong, hence the cane." Jim hefts the afore mentioned object in his hand. "The surgeries to try and fix it properly were going to be too extensive and I wasn't that keen on something completely artificial."

"I'm sorry."

"I had to break out of our cell to send the message and hopefully get back before they noticed or they would have punished everyone else. On my way back, there was this second ship left unguarded I could have escaped on. Could have just got the hell out of there. And who knows, maybe things would have turned out better for everyone. I just couldn't leave him there. What if I lose him now?"

"He's going to make it," assures Uhura. Leonard's not totally in the clear but every day is step in the right direction.

"This time. What about next time?"

Uhura doesn't have an answer for that. None of them know what's coming or when their bill will come due.

"I filed for separation," reveals Jim, like a dirty secret. "After the whole Michigan thing and getting court-martialled. Did he tell you that?"

She shakes her head. Leonard never mentioned anything other than him leaving Jim briefly.

"Bones put everything on hold while I was recovering. He made his career decisions based on what I wanted and then he gave it all up when they took it away from me. His whole life became about accommodating me and taking nothing for himself. I was an excuse so I thought if I removed that excuse, maybe he could have his life back because he deserves to be here. Just telling a wild animal it's free doesn't work so I drove him to the middle of the woods and left him there in the form of a legal separation."

Suddenly things make a little more sense. "That's why you're listed as a dependant and not his spouse."

"Medically looking out for me, but blocked from legally being recognized as my husband. I thought it was a big enough push. I was right. He finally left. And then this," says Jim, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his long jagged scar, "undid all that work and Bones came running right back. If he died now he wouldn't be my legal husband and I would give anything to change that fact."

"There's always time to fix that," she assures.

"I can't put Bones through that again. And there's no guarantee he wants it undone."

For the very first time, Uhura catches a glimpse of just what Leonard's become so infatuated with. "Nyota. My first name is Nyota."

"I know," says Jim with a soft laugh. "Found out years ago."

"Then why?"

"I like the game. I like that you still treat me like I'm me."


	13. Chapter 13

"You do good work, Leonard," praises the head of Starfleet Medical Research. "Just say the word and I can get you on board any team in the galaxy. They're doing some fascinating work on Capri Seven that you would be perfect for."

"Thank you, sir," replies Leonard with a tight smile. "I'm happy where I am. I'm just glad I could help."

Dr Philt looks doubtful. A simple surgical residency out of Vancouver is hardly the fulfilling position someone with Leonard's skill needs. "Can I at least talk you into speaking at the medical conference on Ramda Three next month? You can bring your husband if you like."

Leonard lets out a long breath before fiddling with the things on his desk. Jim will barely leave the apartment these days for any place other than a seedy bar. He can't picture Jim boarding a ship to go to a medical conference with him. "I don't think Jim would be up for such a long trip," apologises Leonard. It's become an all too familiar song and he knows the words by heart.

Not to be deterred, Philt continues, "You'd be a key note speaker. I can have you in and out within a day. If necessary, you can take the day and we can do it via video conference."

"I'll think about it," promises Leonard and he almost believes the lie himself this time. Philt must believe it because he signs off of the video conference. Leonard can barely make it into the office any more. Spending a whole day lecturing is simply an impossibility.

"Why don't you go to the conference?" demands Jim, darkly from Leonard's office door.

Leonard glances up from his desk. He doesn't know how long Jim's been standing there; he thought Jim was still taking a nap. "I have work at the hospital to catch up on," he says, grabbing a report out of his desk drawer. He's not in the mood for this today; he's tired, worn and frustrated. A frayed rope can't hold the weight of this relationship forever. He can smell the alcohol on Jim's breath from across the room.

"Maybe you wouldn't have to catch up all the time if you went to work," seethes Jim.

Leonard's shoulders drop. He's tired of the tight rope walk. If he goes to work, he barely gets in the door before Jim is calling with a meltdown. If he stays, he ends up the source of Jim's frustration. He can't win and he doesn't know how many more rounds he has in himself before he takes a knockout. "Did you take your meds?"

Jim snorts. He ambles in and grabs the PADD off Leonard's desk with the conference details. This isn't about him, it's about Leonard wasting his life babysitting a lost cause.

Leonard feels a headache coming. "You have to take your meds, Jim."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"We've talked about this. You know the rules." Leonard feels like a parrot that only knows a handful of words.

Jim slams the PADD down on the desk so hard, it cracks. "I'm not your god damn child!" he yells, because he's so sick of being told what he can and can't do all the time. He's never going to be a captain again so why endure all the damn side effects of drugs that help him try and cope when he has nothing to cope for. He certainly doesn't need Leonard to play nurse- it's a god damn waste of his talent and time.

"Then stop acting like it!" counters Leonard. He can't be the only one trying to keep things together here.

"Go to the conference, Leonard," says Jim, tight and quiet. "Take the research job. Hell, take any of these jobs." Jim knocks the pile of PADDs so they fall across Leonard's desk. It's an impressive amount of offers over the last few months, since the medical community found out Leonard was a free agent. Instead of a symbol of opportunity created by great skill, it's a monument to a life not being lived.

"I can't," growls Leonard.

"Why?" presses Jim. He wants to hear Leonard say it.

"You know why." Leonard really doesn't want to say it. "What more do you want?" demands Leonard, because he's not the one that spends all night at the bar only to come staggering home after sunrise to sleep all day. Every move or lack thereof, Leonard has made, has been for Jim and what's going to work for him. He doesn't regret it but he can't take being resented for it either.

"I need something different. _Someone_ different _._ " The words feel dirty in Jim's mouth.

"Oh, is that what this is? You have some wild oats you feel the need to sow? An itch you need to scratch? Well don't let me stand in the way of the might James T Kirk." Trust Jim to resort to whoring around to avoid dealing with his emotions.

"Maybe I do want to scratch. Maybe I already have." The words go down like razors. He hasn't cheated, yet, but it's been close. Jim's long learned his self respect is rather waning, but he couldn't do that to Leonard. Still, his alcohol clouded decisions are coming pretty close to waking up next to someone who's name is decidedly not his husbands. Leonard needs to leave before Jim burns his life down around himself; Jim's not looking for other casualties. "How long did you think this was going to last anyways?"

Honestly, Leonard feared it would never get off the Enterprise. He spent the whole first year of their marriage waking up every morning wondering if today was the day Jim would tell him it was all a joke, some ploy to make sure they didn't give up; that the cold light of day exposes too much of why Jim could never be his. He thought Jim might walk right out of that hospital and leave him standing there with nothing but the memories and a cold realization that he's not worth hanging on to.

Leonard suddenly feels very small. " _I_ meant it when I said till death."

"That's not me. I can't save you anymore, Leonard. I have nothing more to give." He's broken, beyond more than just a bum leg, shoulder and brain. What Leonard needs, Jim's never going to be able to give him. Jim's just tired of being a disappointment- to himself, to the Federation, to Leonard. He can't bear to have Leonard look at him with resentment, and he will; it's just a matter of time.

"I don't need you to save me."

"I can see why Jocelyn left you. Not only are you good at getting stagnant, but you're neediness is suffocating," says Jim, because he knows just where to stick the knives for maximum effect. He's fucking surgical at breaking hearts.

Leonard stands up with enough force that it sends the office chair rolling back into the wall with a thud. He's not interested in arguing with a drunk. "You can be a real asshole, you know that, Jim?" he huffs, storming out of the office.

Jim follows, hot on his heels. He's committed now. Leonard's a smart guy, maybe if he can just get Leonard to say it, something will snap in his head and he'll realize they don't have a future that's worth anything. "I need more, Leonard." And he does. He needs his life back. More importantly he needs Leonard to have more than this hollowed out existence Jim's created.

The room fills with a thick rotting silence. The whole fight is becoming too familiar, like muscle memory, all lines rehearsed to near perfection. It goes nowhere and gains nothing; just like them. Jim nods his head. Someone has to pull the chord on the parachute before they go splat on the ground. "I want a divorce." The words suck all the oxygen out of the room.

"Jim," protests Leonard. He can't be the only one that wants to fight for this. It can't have only meant something to him.

"I'm tired of being your excuse for not living. You hide behind me so you don't have to go back out there. I can't be the albatross around someone's neck, I won't. And I'm in no position to hold your hand anymore. I can't save you, Leonard. So I think it's time we stop kidding ourselves that this was anything more than some desperate near death cry for help." Really, the writing has always been on the walls. Kirks suck at family. They either burn out before their inevitable conclusion like their mother with Jim and Sam or they spontaneously combust like his father and mother.

"You don't mean that," says Leonard. His throat burns as he tries to utter the words calmly. They have something together, they always have.

"I do. We thought we were going to die. I just checked off a box. Now we need to move on and start our lives. I need to start my life. I can't do that with you around." Jim impresses himself with how convincing the lie is; he practically believes it. This is the final stand of Jim Kirk, the last act of a disgraced captain- to stand there and watch his lover's heart break in more pieces than can every be found.

Leonard wants to puke. He's watched his whole life unravel before; watched Jocelyn take their daughter and leave like Leonard was nothing more than a speed bump in their lives. Jim has that same look in his eyes Jocelyn did when she decided Leonard wasn't worth the trouble anymore. "We can talk about this."

"You should spend the night at a hotel. You can come get your things in the morning."

Jim turns to leave but Leonard reaches out and grabs his wrist. He just needs to hold on to Jim. As long as they're together they can work this out, they can survive anything. Jim just yanks his hand free, storming off to the bedroom.

Leonard sits there numbly in the ruins of his life. Long after the room's gone dark, he grabs a change of clothes and leaves the apartment. He doesn't sleep. Just sits on the balcony of his hotel room and watches the stars until they fade away and the sun burns away what was left of Leonard's life.

He waits until ten am, before heads home. Maybe Jim will be more amendable to talking if he hasn't already come to the same conclusion Leonard has- they belong together.

The apartment is empty. In the living room is a suitcase packed full of Leonard's belongings and a copy of a petition for legal separation for Leonard to sign. Jim's already signed it. Leonard wishes it was that easy for him. Clearly Jim's been thinking about this for a long time if he already has the paper work filled out.

Because Leonard can deny Jim nothing, he signs it. Maybe Jim will be able to move on with his life if Leonard isn't the living embodiment of the worst experience of their lives.

Another notch on Kirk's head board. He takes his wedding ring off, turning it over between his fingers. The thing is, Leonard can't bring himself to regret saying yes. Even knowing it ends up here. He places the ring on his last finger because even if Jim won't have him anymore, Leonard will always be Jim's. Leonard grabs his bag filled with a few sentimental belongings. He's getting really good at picking up the pieces of his shattered life.

* * *

Spock studiously ponders his next move. He can achieve checkmate in three moves but that's not the point to this game. There's also the element of undefined chaos that Jim brings to the game that makes inevitable victory uncertain. It keeps the game fresh and unpredictable when Spock's carefully crafted and thought out plays can be so easily derailed by one unexpected, illogical and random move by Jim. He's not certain if there's a hidden genius in Jim's game or if he's simply so allergic to logic, that he's bound to "luck out" in his madness.

Either way, they've only been playing for fifteen minutes today and Jim already seems fidgety and agitated. Spock moves his knight to the second level.

Jim frowns, biting his lip before hastily moving his bishop down to the third level, and then changing his mind.

"Have you been to see Dr McCoy today?" asks Spock.

"No. Leonard says I can only visit when Christine is on shift." It may or may not have something to do with an incident involving medical not having enough time to supervise Jim, an open cabinet full of gauze wraps and a mummy impersonation. It's hard to tell with these things. "She's off today."

Jim doesn't really do all that great with seeing Leonard being helpless. It wears on him and explodes in messy burnouts. Leonard's gotten pretty proficient in making sure Jim doesn't see his injuries. Looks like Jim wasn't the only one that learned a thing or two during their captivity.

"Bones said he'd be out tomorrow anyways. I can wait until then," says Jim but the constant bouncing of his knee precludes otherwise. "There, deal with that," he declares, moving his queen.

It's a bold move, setting Spock's inevitable win back by three moves. "You're sacrificing your queen instead?"

Jim shrugs his shoulders. "I can make another one later."

"Does Dr M'Benga agree with Dr McCoy's assessment?" queries Spock. He knows full well the latest medical report fails to support such a claim.

"That's for them to fight out. My money's on Bones though. Doctors make the worst patients. I can use the rest of today to tidy up the place."

Spock glances around the room. It seems like an insurmountable task. "Do you require assistance?"

Jim looks put out, like Spock just offered him Gagh. "I'm sure the captain has more important things to do than clean quarters." The thought of someone touching his stuff makes Jim's skin crawl and his stomach turn. It's one thing to have Leonard obsessively move and clean things, half of it's his stuff anyways, but it's another to have a stranger rummage through and fondle his belongings. He barely tolerated Uhura touching their stuff. Ayel used to go through their meagre belongings searching for weapons, communication devices and food. Jim won't submit to that kind of violation again.

"I have nothing that cannot wait until later," assures Spock. The chess games started as a well meaning attempt to distract and help pass the time and keep Jim from spiralling but Spock has to admit, he's rather enjoying them. Jim is the most challenging opponent he's had in awhile, and the conversations are interesting to say the least.

"No!" blurts Jim, "I've got it under control." He doesn't. The place looks like a bomb went off; the victim of his constant and unending episodes of fear, frustration and rage. If he can't get the place organized and back in order, how the hell is he going to look after Leonard when he comes home? Calmer, he adds, "It's fine. I'm all over it."

Jim's next move isn't very productive and Spock is two moves from checkmate. It's clear his focus has wavered from the game.

"So, you and Uhura used to have sex," says Jim, keeping his eyes on the chessboard like they're talking about the weather. Spock chokes, turning an interesting shade of green. Jim takes the game in seven moves. Jim's not the only one that can be distracted apparently.

* * *

"Okay, easy does it," sooths Jim as he holds tight to the arm Leonard has slung over his shoulder. They make quite the pair, moving at a snail's pace with Jim's hobbled leg and Leonard's sore aching side, but they manage to get Leonard to the bedroom and deposited in bed.

Leonard rolls his eyes as Jim fusses with the pillows and blankets in the most unhelpful but clearly caring manner. He's out of sickbay and on bed rest for two days, all this tending in unnecessary. He's going to be fine.

"I loaded a copy of the latest novel by that author you like; the one that writes all those medical mysteries. And I got you a glass of iced tea and cookies on the nightstand," says Jim. "If you need something else I can get it for you."

There's only one thing he needs to feel like he's whole again. Leonard takes Jim's hand and pulls him into bed. "Come here."

Jim falls into bed, burrowing into Leonard's side but careful not to jostle his husband. He lays his head gently on Leonard's chest, letting Leonard run his fingers through his hair and as Jim listens to the steady and reassuring beating of Leonard's heart.

"I just need you," assures Leonard. Jim's the only thing he needs to get through anything.

Jim's hand slips up Leonard's abdomen, sliding easily underneath Leonard's shirt to stroke at the still bright pink skin that now covers what were impressive trenches.

"They'll be gone in a couple days too," promises Leonard as Jim's fingers tickle the disappearing scars. All traces of the incident will fade from his body faster than the memories will.

Jim continues to stroke the skin there chasing away the dull ache that's been constant in Leonard's chest. "I'll always feel them there."

* * *

Leonard shoots up gasping for breath. His chest feels like it's on fire and for a moment the darkness makes him believe he's face down in that dark brown sand. He's not. Jim's soft snores as he hogs the blankets beside him are a dead giveaway that he's safe on the Enterprise. It was just a nightmare. Mercifully, he managed not to wake Jim up. The last thing he needs is to do is frighten Jim.

Leonard lies there, staring at the ceiling as his heart slows back to a normal rate. The nightmare was some horrible mash up; that monster lurking in the sand except when it attacked it wasn't a starving creature but Nero. Nero's always the monster haunting Leonard's dreams; it's been awhile though.

It used to be constant, every single damn time Leonard closed his eyes. Then it faded to month long stretches with a week respite between them. By the time they left San Francisco, Leonard was down to having one nightmare every six weeks. Stress makes them more frequent and he was pretty much back to square one after Jim handled their divorce his own way. Before they left the farm, Leonard was down to two nightmares a year.

He lies there, trying to forget last week. He survived. That's all he needs to focus on. That and Jim's still in one piece despite everything. They got lucky. He just needs to remember that before he closes his eyes and the nightmares sweep in.

He really can't afford to start them again. Going to teach class exhausted is one thing, trying to run medical on no sleep is another. He's not sure he has the energy to try and pretend things are alright in front of Jim right now. And he needs to keep it together, because he has a feeling the glue holding Jim together is about to dissolve. They can only afford for one of them can be a mess at a time and Leonard used his turn in a gory and bloody show on that planet. He needs to get this nightmare thing back under control.


	14. Chapter 14

Spock has just settled into his cabin when he gets the rather confused call from the head of the science department requesting his immediate presence in corridor seven, junction nine on E deck. Spock's never been summoned to a hallway before, so his interest is piqued along with his concern. He received no information beyond his presence being required but as he draws closer, he can hear the commotion.

There are several officers standing around keeping a wide distance from McCoy who keeps gesturing them all back. Security is standing at the ready but look as lost and helpless as everyone else. Pacing like a caged animal in the center of the semi circle of spectators is Jim, yelling and cursing up a storm.

"Bones, this is our chance. If we set an explosive in the engine room we can distract them long enough to escape," declares Jim waving a hypospanner around.

"We can't do that, Jim," placates Leonard, keeping his voice steady and calm as he tries to stand between the looky-loos, security and Jim. "People would get hurt and we don't want anyone to get hurt."

"That doesn't stop them," snarls Jim taking a swing at one of the bystanders. The Ensign gasps and takes a couple of steps back.

God why can't people find something else to gawk at? The crowd is just making it harder to calm Jim. It certainly doesn't help that Jim's managed to arm himself. Jim waving around that tool means Leonard can't get close enough to stick Jim with a hypo. Ideally, Leonard would like to talk it out until Jim comes back to himself but this episode is escalating too quickly and now there are innocent bystanders. "Jim, look at me and only me," pleads Leonard, trying to keep Jim's attention.

"They're going to kill us if we don't," says Jim brokenly.

Leonard takes a cautious step forward. "Nobody is going to kill us. I promise. We are safe here."

One of the security officers gets ideas of being some kind of hero and moves in to try and subdue Jim. Jim catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. "Stay back," he orders, taking another swing.

The security officer raises his hands as he jumps back but the other one raises his phaser. Leonard's quick to step in front, smacking the officer's arm down and away so the weapon is no longer pointed at Jim. "Keep your weapons down!" he snarls. He can't hide his wince as his side protests the quick movements.

Jim lowers the spanner slightly, concern carving its way across his face. "They've already hurt you," he says with dejected failure.

"No!" denies Leonard. He knows the treacherous winding road this is going to go down if he tells the truth and he can't let it get that bad. Jim's not with it enough to remind him that Leonard lost a fight with a wild animal a week ago. "I just pulled a muscle the other day. I'm fine. I promise."

Jim doesn't look overly convinced.

The guard looks towards Spock for how he should proceed. The phaser is still clutched tightly in his hand. "That's an order, Lieutenant!" adds Leonard, in a rare demonstration of rank.

"Doctor McCoy?" asks Spock. He needs to know if the doctor can handle this situation or he's going to have to step in and resolve it. The doctor may not like how the resolution is achieved but Spock has a whole crew to think about.

Jim follows the guard's gaze until his eyes land on Spock. "I knew it! I knew the Romulans were here," he declares.

Leonard wants to bang his head against the wall. Two steps forward and nineteen back.

"We have established I am not Romulan," supplies Spock. It is a subject he has had to remind Jim of more than once. It is curious as to why that fact seems to elude him.

It's like everyone is working against Leonard tonight. He just wants to face palm; if only Spock knew just how unhelpful that statement was right now.

Jim's too far gone, only seeing the enemy at every turn. Spock's pointed ears are like a red flag to a bull. He charges towards Spock, spanner raised high.

Leonard throws himself at Jim, tackling him at waist level and sending both of them into the wall. Jim's still struggling desperately in Leonard's arms to get at the Romulan threat.

"Let go of me, Bones." Why can't Leonard understand the danger they're in? Leonard knows what they did to the crew, how can he be protecting them?

"Enough Jim," soothes Leonard, holding on tighter and gritting through the pain in his side every time Jim elbows him to get free. He tries to wrestle the hypo with a sedative out of his pocket without releasing his hold on Jim.

"Why are you siding with them?" demands Jim. Leonard can just imagine the look of betrayal on his husband's face. Jim refocuses his attention on Spock. "What did you do to him? You brainwashed him!" he shouts, trying even harder to slip from Leonard's hold.

Spock can see the pained look on Leonard's face and takes a step forward. This has to end before the doctor undoes all the work the medical team did to put him back together. Before he can get close enough to try and nerve pinch Jim, Leonard hits Jim with the hypo. It takes effect almost immediately, Jim's efforts ceasing as they both slide to the floor in a heap. Leonard never lets go.

"All crewmen back to their quarters," orders Spock, the crowds dispersing quickly and quietly. "You as well," he adds when the security team hesitates to leave. He is more than capable of helping McCoy move Jim and judging by the protective look on the doctor, he is loath to accept much help.

"You are quite proficient with that hypo," commends Spock. He will have to remember the doctor can wield it with ninja like reflexes next time he is in sickbay.

"Lots of practice," says Leonard bitterly.

"Is this going to be a problem?" asks Spock, pointing to himself.

Leonard lets out a long sigh. How's he supposed to answer that? "Most of the time probably not." Leonard looks sad. "He just gets confused sometimes time. I'm usually more on top of it. At least long before he picks up something that can be used as a weapon." Because Jim can turn anything in his hands into a weapon; not that it gets to that point often. "I'll readjust his meds in the morning."

Spock holds onto Jim as Leonard gets to his feet. Between the two of them they carry Jim towards the McCoys' quarters. "We need to have a plan in place to implement should this happen again," states Spock.

Leonard can't argue that. If he slips up again and Jim has an episode that could put someone in danger, security should know how to handle it in a way that doesn't involve phasers. "This was my fault. If I hadn't taken those painkillers before bed, I would have woken up before he left our quarters," confesses Leonard with a bone weary tiredness. He needed the painkillers to stop his nightmares more than ease the pain because he just needs one good night sleep.

They make it back to Leonard's cabin and deposit Jim in bed. Spock waits in the living room while Leonard tucks him in.

"Are you injured?" quires Spock, noticing the slight hitch in the doctor's gait.

Leonard's hand rests over his side. "I'll be fine." He's still very tender, the new skin still bright pink over his injuries. He'll be a kaleidoscope of purples and blacks tomorrow- none of which Jim can see. So much for sharing breakfast in bed tomorrow morning. "I'll have those protocols drafted and submitted to you by tomorrow afternoon."

"Perhaps you would be willing to demonstrate some calming techniques to the senior staff after we discuss the new protocols?" asks Spock, trying to illicit a sense of comradely.

"Sure," says Leonard as he bids Spock good night.

* * *

Jim tosses another drink back, signalling the bartender for another despite her disapproving gaze. He's aiming to beat last night's record, to find that sweet spot where things no longer matter and the world just melts away. He likes it here. The bar isn't supper high class nor is it the usual dive he likes to haunt when he needs to let his fists work out his issues. It's average with a constantly changing clientele thanks to its proximity to a public transport station. Every hour brings in new faces and new opportunities.

Opportunities like the blond sitting next to him with the bright green eyes and a smile that sparkles brighter than the night sky. She hangs off of every cheesy pickup line he can lob at her, her hand constantly rubbing his arm. He doesn't even know her name, nor she his, but every line of her body is screaming sure thing if Jim's willing to put action to his flirtatious promises. It's been a long time since he had anonymous sex in a bathroom stall.

He aches for the anonymity, the simplicity of filling a basic need with someone who has no preconceived notation of who he should be or who he was. They'd both have their fun and then part ways never to meet again, no expectations or looks of disappointment in the day light. Love them and leave- it was his guiding principle until he met a disgruntled doctor who saw all of Jim's cracks and broken pieces and stuck around anyways. Except Jim can't get over these new jagged broken pieces, how can he ask Leonard to?

The bombshell sitting next to him starts to rub circles against his leg with her foot. She doesn't know what a train wreck she's dealing with and doesn't care because for in this moment they're prefect for each other. No expectations. No entanglements. No judgement. No demands.

Leonard wants things from Jim. He wants Jim to be happy. He wants to have this wonderful life with Jim. He wants good things for Jim. Jim isn't sure how to get any of those things and the pressure is killing him. The answer is sitting next to him.

Leonard won't tolerate cheating. Jim's infidelity would be a sharp enough sword to finally sever the ties that bind, to turn Leonard off so much, he finally tosses Jim away. It will be quick like ripping off a bandage instead of the long journey of letting the wound fester to the point of amputation. Jim knows it would crush Leonard, hollow him out and leave him broken. But Leonard would put those pieces back together and rebuild his life again, eventually. Wouldn't that be better than holding on to Leonard and watching him bleed out as he cuts himself on Jim's broken edges?

Or maybe Leonard never finds out about drunken and hasty bathroom sex and Jim gets a couple of carefree moments. If Jim finds release from his burdens maybe he can fake it for a few more months, even years perhaps? He and Leonard can go on pretending that they'll work out.

The blond leans in and Jim gets lost in the smell of her perfume and warmth of her soft skin. "There's a quiet corner in the back, if you care to join me," she purrs, her painted nails brushing down his arm as she gets up from her stool to sashay to the back of the bar.

Jim watches her go, longingly. It all sounds so simple when she says it. He turns back to the bar and slams back his next shot for some added courage. Despite what people think, Jim's always known he's rather weak. He grips the edge of the bar tightly, bracing himself to get off the stool and head to the back. Just as he starts to turn away from the counter to get off his chair the blond sits back down next to him.

"That was quick," starts Jim with a big goofy smile that vanishes as he realizes it's not the blond returning for Jim, rather Pike sitting next to him, glaring. Jim can't help but feel like he's been caught by the principal hustling fellow third graders out of their lunch credits through secret games of poker in the back of the art supply closet again.

"You're an idiot," states Pike.

Jim raises his glass. "That's the general consensus." God he doesn't need a lecture right now.

"Your husband know you're here and what you're doing?" demands Pike. He doesn't condone the behaviour in any circumstances but at least if Jim was stupid enough to not know better it might make things a little easier to swallow. Pike's never met someone so eager to piss their life away like this before. It doesn't help that he rather likes McCoy and thinks the doctor is probably one of the best things to happen to Jim.

Jim turns and looks serious. "Aren't you a little far from home?" They left San Francisco to get away from the people they know.

"Don't forget who's Vancouver apartment you're renting."

Jim rolls his eyes. "If I knew it came with a morals clause, we wouldn't have moved here." Jim screws face up in confusion. He can't figure out why everyone is so personally invested in his life. Don't they have their own problems to deal with? "Why do you even care?" he asks bitterly before hissing, " _Uncle Chris_."

Pike looks pensive for a few moments; like that particular wound is still raw and unclosed. "I thought you were too young to remember that." The irritation is gone from his voice, replaced with what almost sounds like remorse."

"Sam and I are pretty well versed in all mom's boyfriends." There was a revolving door of long lost friends and distant relatives that accompanied Winona when she returned home from space. They never visited again nor was there any mention of them after they disappeared from their lives. It became the game they played, pretending they believed their mother's cover stories for the men she brought around- most of whose name and faces have long since been forgotten.

Jim might have been very young but he remembers Pike. Pike was different from any of the other men Winona dated. He lasted the longest and actually put a genuine smile on Winona's face. He actually bothered to learn Jim and Sam's names and get them right. In fact, Pike was the one to teach Jim how to ride a bike. It was the first time Jim felt like they had a family.

Jim's long suspected Winona ended that relationship when it got too real; when the notion that they could be a happy family without George was painted on her children's faces. He always had a sense that Winona missed Chris and judging by the concealed heartbreak in Pike's eyes, he never got over losing her either. More importantly, Sam and Jim never got over losing the one guy besides their father that gave a damn about them.

Jim's starting to think he's more like his mother than he realized.

"I was your father's friend long before anything happened with your mother," corrects Pike. He's always had a vested interest in the Kirk kids that stems far beyond his surprising feelings for their mother. Regardless of his relationship with Winona, he can't sit idly by and watch George's children self destruct in his face.

"Bet dad would be really glad to know that," says Jim. Pike just stepped in and shot down his sure thing, bringing morality and judgement with him. Jim's in the mood to throw a few knives of his own.

"I loved your mother when we were together. I still love her even now. But your mom needed something I couldn't give her. And trying to pretend was just going to create a lot of collateral damage." Pike was willing to pretend, to pretend that when Winona looked at him she wasn't wishing he was George. But he wasn't willing to put two young boys through that.

"Yeah, well maybe that's what's happening here."

Pike looks a little sad. "McCoy doesn't want anything you can't give him."

Jim snorts. "I beg to differ."

"You just have to want to give it to him," says Pike. McCoy's sun rises and sets with Jim. All Jim has to do is not give up.

Jim watched his mother chase away anyone whoever mattered because her grief controlled her life. She had everything to live for but chose not to because she couldn't see past the hole George left in her. His mother was the walking dead. So is Jim and Leonard's just dumb enough to stay and let Jim eat him alive. "He'd be better off moving on to someone who's alive."

"I don't believe that and I don't think you do either. I know McCoy would disagree."

Jim wants to be good for Leonard, be everything he needs or could ever want. That's not how this fairy tale ends. This isn't one of the stories where they live happily ever after, it's one of the ones where the wolf eats the hero. And Jim... he's burdened with the intellect to know that. He wishes every day that Nero destroyed that part of his brain, that he could just be dumb enough to be happy and selfish enough to hold onto the one good thing in his life. "Leonard doesn't always know what's good for him. Trust me on that." Leonard's been sticking his neck out for Jim almost from the minute they met.

"I'm heading out again." Pike has a bad feeling, like he's leaving a teenager home alone with a copy of the liquor cabinet key and an unlimited credit account. He's long since learned he can't control the actions of others, even the self-destructive ones, but he doesn't want the story to conclude without him. Not if he can help write it in a different direction.

Jim raises his glass. "Duty calls." It's like salt in the wound; everyone carrying on with their lives unencumbered by what Nero did. Jim's frozen in time and the rest of the universe is moving on without him.

"Try not to do anything stupid until I get back," cautions Pike, looking pointedly at the girl Jim was flirting with.

Jim glances back at her too. She offers a little wave and coy smile, beckoning Jim to give into carnal temptation. He downs his drink. "No promises."

Pike stands up and straightens his uniform jacket. He looks at the bar tender, making a cut him off gesture. "He needs a ride home," he says, leaving without another word.

* * *

It only takes a couple of days for Leonard to get back on his feet. It's nice to have a week of half days and a husband to pamper him before he gets back to normal. Leonard would love to milk it for an extra day or two before finally getting back into the regular rhythm of things. Jim gets into a regular rhythm too.

"What's all this?" asks Leonard sitting down at a perfectly prepared dinner table after his first full day back to work.

"I cooked," says Jim with flourish. He's kind of proud of himself- nothing ended up on fire.

"I see that." Leonard looks hesitantly at the table. Bless Jim, but the kid and the kitchen are natural enemies. If it wasn't for the invention of the replicator, Jim would have starved to death a long time ago. The whole place smells heavenly so Jim made it from scratch. They're on the edge of Federation space so it's not like Jim ordered in. This not only looks edible, it looks delicious.

Jim watches intently as Leonard goes to take his first bite of cashew chicken.

"It's not poisoned, is it?" asks Leonard, feeling slight self-conscious of Jim's unrelenting gaze.

Jim snorts. "If I was going to kill you, I wouldn't poison your dinner," he says, affronted. "I'd use that powder from Telexia Prime. The one that's absorbed through the skin and causes total paralysis of the lungs and diaphragm."

"I remember," says Leonard leery. Trust the only time Jim would listen to Leonard talk about an article in the latest science journal, it's about an untraceable killing powder. "You thinkin' 'bout offing me?"

Jim shakes his head. "If I was though, I'd mix it into a cream. Ply you up with a bottle of bourbon and a nice massage. You'd go out in your sleep sometime in the middle of the night," says Jim with a shrug.

"Good thing you haven't thought about it," grumbles Leonard before finally taking a bit. His face goes from tightly controlled terror to slightly orgasmic. The food is amazing.

"I know, right?" cheers Jim, loading up his plate. He even managed to impress himself. It's only his second cooking lesson with Sulu but so far it's clearly a success. Assuming Leonard comes up for air.

They do the lessons in Sulu's quarters on the sly. It's nothing fancy or extravagant but it's food made with love and Jim plans on winning Leonard over every Saturday night. It's a nice touch of home he knows Leonard misses.

The McCoy's were traditionalists that had big home cooked family dinners all the time. As a result, Leonard can work magic in the kitchen. Jim grew up being able to perform miracles with a replicator. While the food is pretty much the same on a molecular level, you still can't replicate the taste of homemade. Now with Sulu's help, Jim doesn't have to try. Their lives have become almost domestic.

* * *

Scotty and Leonard have the same rotation schedule so when Leonard is on Beta shift so is Scotty. Jim would rather bash his head in than hang around sickbay if he doesn't have to so instead he's taken to wandering down to engineering to pass the time.

Beta shift is usually pretty slow so Scotty has the time to listen to Jim's ideas and theories and pitch some of his own. The perfect storm is when Chekov pulls an engineering shift during those weeks and the three of them can draft plans and reports to implement and test some of their ideas.

"If you increase the energy input here the engine output could increase by fifteen percent," says Jim, pointing to the schematic laid out over the control panel. He has a lot of time on his hands to think about these things since he technically doesn't have a job. And now he has someone who's willing to entertain his ideas and build upon them.

"Mmmm, aye, that could work," agrees Chekov, doing the calculations in his head. He passes a scanner down to Scotty.

"The relays would never handle it. She'd over heat and fry the controls," protests Scotty as he performs the scheduled maintenance on the coolant control system. Someone has to get some real work done today.

"Unless," prompts Jim with uncontained enthusiasm, prompting Chekov down the same train of thought.

"We build two additional relays systems in each nacelle," proposes Chekov. He's already working out the logistics in his head.

"We cannae just build two engine relays out in the middle of space!" sputters Scotty, crawling out of the maintenance shaft with lightening speed. He won't let anyone mangle his ship by trying to do something inconceivable.

"Scotty," presses Jim. It's a good idea and while Scotty is right, it would never be attempted under normal circumstances, it's not like the Enterprise is burdened with ordinary people.

Scotty stands steadfast in his assessment. He crosses his arms. "No! It cannae be done." No matter how promising the idea, it's not something that can be done by waving a magic wand.

"If anyone can do it, it's you," continues Jim, buttering the engineer up. They'll never come up with a workable proposal and plan if Scotty won't get on board. He and Chekov stand there looking like they're begging to keep a stray.

"Oh alright," snaps Scotty, taking a serious look at the blue prints Chekov is drafting. So much for getting the control panel sorted today.

Engineering's become even more productive and innovative in the last few months than it has on any other voyage.

* * *

They host chess night with Spock three nights a week. Leonard's not really one for the game. Jim suspects Leonard's better at it then he lets on, but he enjoys watching Leonard play dumb when Jim cajoles him into a game. More often than not, Leonard goes to a book club with Uhura during chess night or out drinking with Scotty. It leaves Jim and Spock alone but being in his own quarters lessens some of the unease about hosting a set of pointed ears.

"You and Spock playing again tonight?" asks Leonard as he emerges from the bedroom.

"It's Sunday night," Jim replies as he places the chess pieces in their designated starting points. "Book club or wine club," jokes Jim.

Leonard screws up his face. He and Scotty don't drink _wine_. "Book club," he says hefting his PADD with the latest required reading. "Who would drink wine just because?" asks Leonard with a shudder. Wine has a few limited places, mostly food adjacent.

"Savages," says Jim, absently. He's never been a connoisseur of alcohol; he consumed it for its function not its taste. He never discriminated based on type and made most selections based on availability only. Leonard on the other hand has a long and dedicated appreciation for particular spirits. Not to mention a bit of snobbery toward drinks that aren't his preference. Wine anywhere but with dinner would be one of those faux pas.

"I might be late tonight," says Leonard, placing a kiss on the top of Jim's head as he walks past the couch.

"I'll make sure the Vulcan doesn't get out of hand," promises Jim.

"Why do I feel like it's not Spock, I have to worry about?"

Jim doesn't answers, just shoots Leonard a large evil grin as the doctor heads out the door.

Thank god it's not Chekov with the challenging chess game. Leonard's not sure he'd have the patients to pick the kid up off the ground after a night under Jim's influence and the ship certainly isn't ready for a full blown Kirk escapade.

* * *

"I know it's none of my business," Jim starts after he and Spock have been playing for an hour, "what happened between you and Uhura."

"You are correct. It is not," replies Spock wanting no part in the discussion. He moves his queen to the second tire. His private life is not for discussion.

Jim tilts his head to the side, moving his knight back down to the first tire after a few moments of deliberation. "But," continues Jim undeterred by the Vulcan's steely gaze, "I see the way she looks when she talks about you. Whatever was so important... believe me, it's not. You belong together."

"My feelings for Nyota have never been in question," insists Spock, moving his rook. Love was never their problem.

Jim's quick to take it with his bishop. "Yet you're not together," he points out.

"I have an obligation," says Spock, equally as quick to remove Jim's bishop off the board with his queen. "Vulcan's numbers were decimated during the attack of which you should be aware."

"Oh, I am aware. Believe me." They had a front row seat for the planet's destruction on board the Narada.

Different circumstances would have yielded different results. This is not the future Spock would have picked for himself before Nero but it is the one he is obligated to now. "Then you should understand my duty to my people."

Jim rubs his forehead. "Please tell me you don't approach sex as a mathematical problem."

"That subject is not open for discussion," says Spock sternly.

"Alright. Duty be damned. You love her and that's as equally as important if not more so to you than the logical practice of perpetuating the species."

"It is not," denies Spock moving his king out of the way of Jim's potential next move.

"It must be," assures Jim, "otherwise you wouldn't have let me win just now." Jim slides his queen into position. "Checkmate."

Spock stares at the board in disbelief. Jim's managed to beat him before. Jim rarely subscribes to practical and logical strategies opting for random chaos that Spock cannot always out manoeuvre but this was a very clear and obvious trap he walked into.

"Think about it," says Jim as he gets up to fix himself a snack.

Spock sits and stares at the board trying to piece together exactly where his game went to hell.

* * *

"Don't be mad," says Jim, lying in bed next to Leonard. "But I kind of did something."

Leonard lets out a long tired sigh. He's too tired to hide a body tonight or fall on bended knee before the captain to beg for forgiveness for something. Really, if Jim's going to spring shit on him, he could have the decency to do it before Leonard's all loose, pliable and content from the mind blowing sex.

"Is it going to get us kicked off the ship?" asks Leonard, sleepily.

"We're going to get off voluntarily."

Okay, Leonard's awake now. Jim's prone to the seven year itch at a much more accelerated rate than most people but what they have right now is good and it's only been four months. He stares wide eyed at the ceiling. "Why would we do that?" He can feel Jim fidgeting next to him. The silence is starting to become irritating and worrisome. "Spill."

"I was talking with Chekov. We're going to be staying around Myatol for another couple of weeks to work on trade negotiations and give the crew some shore leave time."

"Um-hum." Leonard does attend all the senior staff meetings. He knows exactly what the ship's doing and why they're here. What he doesn't know is why Jim cares or what it has to do with Jim. First contact isn't exactly in his purview anymore.

"So then I was talking with Uhura who helped me run it by the captain."

Oh god. There's far too many people involved in whatever this is for it to not cause Leonard a small coronary. The last time Jim did 'something' that he ran by someone else, Leonard had eight baby goats running around the house that needed to be bottle fed after Jim helped birth them in their bed. They were cute but Leonard has better uses for their bed than a nursery.

"Do I need to start lookin' for a new job?"

"No. But you do need to find someone to cover your shifts for a few days," says Jim with a smile.

"I'm slightly afraid."

"That's the spirit, Bones." Jim props himself up on his elbow. He runs his hand down Leonard's chest, tapping each time he reveals part of his plan. "I secured for us, three nights shore leave on the planet. I booked us a nice cozy looking yurt, which we are totally going to christen for all mankind. And I got us a reservation at what's supposed to be their version of a five star restaurant. It'll be a romantic weekend of good food and very little clothing," promises Jim, practically salivating at the idea.

Color Leonard impressed. Wait... ran it past the captain? "Tell me you didn't sell Spock on the idea with the promise of no clothing?" He'll never be able to look that green hobgoblin in the eye again.

Jim just laughs. "You're virtue is safe with me."

"My virtue has never been safe with you," growls Leonard as he throws the sheets to the side and rolls on top of Jim.


	15. Chapter 15

_'_ _USS Enterprise to Starfleet Command. After five months we have found the Narada. Requesting permission to engage."_

* * *

Leonard knew the fall was coming; it always does. He's not surprised. He has years of medical training and more than a decade of personal hands on Jim experience to not be surprised, but somehow he's still a little disappointed- not with Jim, never with Jim. He's disappointed with himself. He let hope and happiness blind him and whisper false promises that they were special, the exception to the rule; like some switch in Jim's brain could be flipped back to factory settings. This time would be different.

He can see how the others could have believed it, but after all this time, he's not sure how he got sucked down that delusional rabbit hole as well. He's had a lot of time to go over it too, sitting in a jail cell for the last eighteen straight hours. So much for relations with the natives.

* * *

"Admit it, you had doubts," says Jim, cutting into his pastry wrapped meal. It looks like beef wellington but tastes like blueberry pie. The server insisted it's a traditional dinner option; Jim's not going to argue.

Leonard takes a sip of his drink. "I had reservations," he says cautiously. It's not that he doesn't have faith in Jim, but this romantic 'weekend' has a lot of moving parts, not to mention a new species thrown in the mix. Things are going pretty smoothly; they have been for awhile. Leonard could get used to these grand gestures and calm seas.

"Always looking for the negative," says Jim with a smirk.

"I prefer cheerful pessimist," corrects Leonard, raising his glass in toast. Jim picks up his glass and clinks the glasses together. Jim's foolishly optimistic enough for the both of them. Someone has to be practical in the relationship.

Leonard has to admit the trip is just what he needed. The tension he's been carrying since the incident with the bear like creature has vanished and he's managed to sleep through the night with nothing but pleasant dreams. When they decide to actually get some sleep that is. It's a shame that they only have two days left. "Should we order desert?"

"I can think of better indulgences for the evening," answers Jim, using his foot to rub at the inner part of Leonard's thigh under the table.

Leonard clears his throat and shifts in his chair. He's not limited in his sexual escapades but unlike Jim he tends to draw the line at exhibitionism. It's Leonard's resolve that keeps Jim from doing something depraved right on top of the table. "You're going to have to hold that thought for twenty minutes, Jim."

Jim pulls his foot away with a pout.

"Like dealing with a child," mutters Leonard as he signals the server over to settle up their bill. It's not a bad time to leave either, as a bunch of teenagers (Leonard guesses based on their size) gather at the entrance to the outside seating courtyard of the restaurant. They're carrying sighs but based on the pictures it's not hard to decipher their sentiment. It's a demonstration of some good ole fashioned xenophobia. Wanting to avoid the spectacle Leonard wraps his arm around Jim and they head for the exit to spend the rest of the night back at their accommodations.

The kids are clustered tightly at the entrance making it difficult to wade through the crowd. One of the teens shoves Leonard just to emphasize his point about creatures with two legs being inferior to those with six.

Leonard's apology for 'getting in the way' should be been the end of it. He's not here to change their narrow minds but he's not going to give them anything to support their hate either. The group turn their focus specifically on Leonard and Jim since they're the closest. Most of the words they chant don't exactly translate well, so Leonard can assume they're unflattering slurs. Clearly not everyone on the planet is as excited about welcoming the Federation as the government is.

Leonard can feel Jim tense up. "Just leave it. It doesn't matter," he cautions. This isn't some rural town where disagreements are settled with fists followed by cold beers, this is the busy capital belonging to a species with a budding relationship with the Federation. He steers Jim along, but the more words coming out of this kid's mouth the more it's like trying to push a boulder along. Leonard's big enough to take a few misplaced insults but it's getting harder to ignore the crap being spewed at them.

"Look at it. It even walks funny," proclaims the kid that shoved Leonard, pointing a long arm at Jim.

It's a cheap and dirty shot. Leonard would like to see how well the kid can walk with a leg that was broken in several places and received no proper medical attention as it healed, even if he does have five other legs. He turns sharply, never letting go of Jim. "That's about enough," he warns, aiming to hold onto some semblance of diplomacy while still conveying his distain.

Jim sags a little in Leonard's arms. The mood's definitely dead and it's a shame because it took a lot of work to put everything together. He can't help but feel that his condition is like a beacon attracting turmoil and strife into his and Leonard's lives. "Let's go home," he whispers, like he's pleading for his life. This isn't the kind of attention he wanted today.

Leonard's not sure if he's talking about the yurt, the ship or perhaps the farm. He doesn't get much time to consider it; the second he turns around to leave, a thin yet hard skeletal hand comes crashing down on his shoulder, violently yanking him back and out of Jim's embrace. Leonard's unable to get his feet underneath him, faltering several steps before landing flat on his back- hard. The vibration ripples through his skull, building and rolling through him like a tidal wave of pain. He gasps for breath, the air knocked out of his lungs. It's nothing horrifically serious but Jim apparently doesn't see that way.

Young and dumb and not to be deterred until they get the response they were hoping for, the protesters swarm tighter around Leonard. Through their feet he can see the other crew members leave their tables and try to diffuse the situation. It isn't hard for Leonard to see that look taking over Jim. "I'm fine, Jim," shouts Leonard to be heard over the crowd's taunting.

It's no use, Jim can't hear him. Then some fool puts his damn hands on Leonard and Jim is gone in a haze of desperate violence and screaming that there is, "No way they're taking Leonard. Not this time."

That mythical illusion that Jim is just another Starfleet officer in the crew compliment dies in that little restaurant as the crew watch in horror as Jim attacks the protesters. The poor bastards had no idea who they were taunting. Leonard would feel a little bad for them but it's only Jim that really matters.

Jim throws himself at the kid that grabbed Leonard, tackling him to the ground. He's a hurricane of fists and rage, punching for all he's worth. Yellow blood is spraying across the ground as his fists break and crack more of the insect like species flesh covered shell. The kid's friends try to help, moving in to pull Jim off but Jim just turns his fury on them.

Leonard tries to get to his feet but those who aren't involved in the fight start to panic creating a mad rush for escape. It's like a stampede and all Leonard can do is try and crawl out of the way to not be crushed in the chaos.

* * *

Spock appears with the Myatolin's version of a lawyer and a sheriff. The captain looks all kinds of pissed off under that Vulcan mask of his. Leonard doesn't envy the amount of paper work an incident like this is going to generate for their captain.

Leonard shifts a little on the cold hard slab of rock meant to serve as a cot for the prisoner and braces himself for a thorough ass chewing. He's responsible for Jim and even if Spock takes his side, Leonard understands being the sacrificial lamb for the sake of a budding relationship with a new species. Starfleet has gotten good at using Jim as theirs.

The sheriff silently comes forward and unlocks the cell door with a series of cylinders that work like old fashioned keys. He's keeping his opinions silent but Leonard doesn't miss the subtle glares being thrown his way.

"The Myatolins have agreed to release you and Jim into my personal custody," states Spock.

Leonard stands up and straightens his uniform shirt. "That was mighty generous of them," he says in disbelief tainted with condemnation. They shouldn't need releasing in the first place, but the Myatolins don't come across as the most understanding of psychological issues. Given the circumstances, he thought it would have taken Spock longer to negotiate their way out of this and with harsher consequences; Jim did almost beat two citizens to death and injured three others.

"The ship is required to cancel shore leave and leave Myatolin space, never to return," elaborates Spock. It's an unfavourable conclusion to a promising first contact. "It was the best resolution I could negotiate."

There it is. Even if Leonard can get Spock to overlook this disastrous attempt at first relations, Starfleet will be less likely to forgive or forget. That damage control is secondary to that with the crew. Leonard's seen that look of fear in people's eyes before, like Jim's just some wild animal waiting to attack. It's simply not true. They just don't know him.

It's not completely false either.

* * *

Someone has the insight to call the authorities. Not that they know how to handle the situation. Both Jim and the kid are fighting for their lives- the kid because Jim isn't showing any sign of stopping and Jim because he has that look in his eyes like his survival depends on the outcome of this altercation.

Leonard's seen this look before. The sick look of satisfaction in Jim's eyes as he keeps punching, like he can beat the scars of Nero out of his memory or perhaps stop Nero from ever having laid a hand on anyone if he just keeps hitting. Leonard struggles to get closer, not caring who he has to shove out of his way.

"Jim, I need you to look at me!" he shouts getting as close as possible without being in striking distance.

Jim looks up but doesn't see Leonard. He doesn't see anything but blood on the floor and Nero's smiling face. The blood's everywhere, enough to drown in. The things they did to the crew, to Jim- _to Leonard_ , they're not going to get away with it.

The sound of flesh connecting with flesh and exoskeleton echoes in Leonard's ears. Jim's going to kill someone and that's something he won't come back from. "Jim, enough!" It falls on deaf ears. Jim's all snarls with blood splattered on his face and hands like war paint.

Law enforcement moves in pulling away those trying to help the kid and any crew members trying to break up the fight. One latches onto Leonard's arm, yanking him up to his feet. Leonard can see the resolve to end this situation using any means necessary dancing in the insect like faces.

"It's not what you think," says Leonard as one of the officers tries to drag him away. "He doesn't know what he's doing." He struggles to get free, to make his way back to Jim.

The other members of the Myatolin security team manage to pry Jim off of the kid but just earn themselves the position of being his new targets. There's blood in the water and like a shark, Jim's all sharp teeth.

"It's not Nero!" shouts Leonard, fighting his own battle to get back to his husband. He makes it a couple steps away from the officer but a sharp blow to just behind the knee sends him crashing to the ground. The officer raises his clear baton in the air threatening to bring it down on Leonard again should he try and get up.

Leonard stays on his knees, watching helplessly as the other remaining guards use their weapons to try and subdue Jim. "Jim, stop," sobs Leonard.

They finally wrestle Jim to the ground. It takes two of them to hold him down as he thrashes to get free and another two to secure Jim's hands behind his back with metal cuffs.

"You don't understand," pleads Leonard as they drag him away. He contorts himself to peer around the guard, desperate to not lose sight of Jim. "I can help him," he promises because he has to make them understand. This isn't someone threatening violence against the Myatolin people, this is a soul in pain, who would never intentionally hurt them if he was in his right mind. If they're not careful they're going to make not only this situation worse but Jim's over all mental health as well. "He's not well."

The guard either doesn't understand or doesn't care. He just continues to drag Leonard further away from Jim. They finally get outside the confines of the restaurant courtyard. A crowd has gathered, all gawking and pointing at the humans that have come and disturbed their peaceful town. He can see several members of the crew gathered on the street corner, watching and asking questions. One of them is communicating with the ship. Leonard can only hope someone from command intervenes soon.

"You are charged with inciting a riot," proclaims the security officer as he places handcuff on Leonard.

"We weren't the ones that started it. That was your people," snaps Leonard. "You have to let me help my husband."

* * *

Anyone can be pushed into losing it. Jim's cliff is just closer than other people's.

"I assumed you would want to be present when they release Mr McCoy," says Spock. His voice is formal and precise like a captain's should be but there's a flicker of sadness in the depths of his Vulcan eyes that's almost human.

Leonard goes cold. It was a mess to start with, but Jim's also been locked up for eighteen hours, so it will be like handing Leonard a lit stick of dynamite. "You assumed right."

"There is one more stipulation. Since Mr McCoy has been deemed a criminal here, he is not allowed out of his cell without restraints and we cannot beam back to the ship from inside the city. If we do not comply, he will remain here in custody for twenty years."

Leonard closes his eye and takes a deep breath. Things just keep going from bad to worse. He nods because what Spock's not asking in front of their escort, is can he get Jim to into a set of restraints without force and keep him together until they're back aboard the Enterprise.

"Have you seen him?" asks Leonard. Due to Jim's violent reaction he and Leonard weren't permitted to be in the same facility.

Spock nods. "Our hosts have not mistreated him."

Leonard could disagree. He can't expect decent treatment from a species that doesn't believe in psychological issues. It's not the answer Leonard was looking for. His gut clenches as he remembers those dark days trapped on Nero's ship and the steady decline of their mental and physical wellbeing during their months of captivity.

They walk in silence to the maximum security wing of the jail. Leonard tries not to take it personally that the Myatolins don't think he's capable of being a real threat because if Jim's not physically okay they're going to realize their mistake in a very bad way.

"They put hands on me and Jim thought they were going to hurt me," offers Leonard breaking the silence because he feels he needs to give Spock some kind of explanation about what happened.

"We will discuss it later," says Spock, shutting down the conversation.

Leonard kind of wants to talk about it now because there are no innocent parties here. The protester is still in the hospital and four of the officers are sporting injuries that will heal in time. Leonard's no worse for wear and Jim... Leonard can only imagine. Just like that, everyone was reminded that Jim's not one of them- not completely stable.

The fall somehow hurts worse when you forget to expect it.

* * *

Leonard's not sure what he's going to find in that cell; just how long it's going to take to carefully put each one of Jim's broken pieces back together again. It took Jim three months after they were rescued from Nero for him to utter a single word to anyone other than Leonard after surgery, and it wasn't like he was gracing Leonard with anything more than yes or no's to questions. The handcuffs are going to be a tough sell in any state.

There's an eerie silence in the jail, like they're going to identify a body in the morgue not release a prisoner. The thought of taking Jim out of here is the only thing convincing his body to move forward. Fear that this is the one time Leonard won't be able to bring Jim back to the world is a ball and chain around his neck, choking him and threatening to pull him down.

The space outside of the cell is packed with people, like spectators at the zoo waiting for the lion to come out for feeding time. Leonard kind of wants to give the Myatolin security detail a show but he's not sure what would be more satisfying- giving them what they fear or proving them wrong.

Sulu and Chekov are already standing outside Jim's cell acting as security officers for the Enterprise. Leonard's relieved it's some familiar faces rather than the on duty security detail, and the Myatolins clearly don't know the difference between security officers in red and command officers in gold posing as security.

One of the guards who is young and eager and clearly low on brains mumbles under his breath, but not low enough, because the universal translator picks is up. "Crazy bipeds."

Leonard shoots a steely gaze accompanied with a sneer that's all jagged edges promising a painfully slow death. It works better than any translator because the guard clicks his insect like mandibles nervously while taking a step back. Leonard's taken an oath to do no harm but he's willing to amend it to 'do no harm he can't personally fix' if any of them dare make the situation any worse.

He has to stay focused on what matters now and it's not the small minded opinion of these people. All the fear and hesitation evaporates from Leonard the second he lays eyes on Jim. His body shifts into survival mode, cataloguing every detail of Jim and triaging what to address first.

The cell door slides open with a heavy clunk that echoes off the walls and Leonard's soul. Jim flinches slightly at the sound but doesn't uncurl from the tight ball he's pulled himself into on the floor. His bloodied knuckles grip tightly around his knees, keeping them pressed to his chest as shuddering breaths wrack his body. He's got his back to the cell door so he can't see the audience that's gathered, not that it would matter with the way he has his eyes clenched closed.

Leonard wants to scream and rage. They have no idea the sacrifice Jim has made. Leonard wants to shout it from the roof, broadcast it to every ship and planet in the known universe. This heap of mess curled in a ball in a dingy prison cell didn't get this way be being inferior.

"Jim," says Leonard, softly as he places his hand tenderly on Jim's shoulder. The tiny whimper that escapes Jim's cracked and spit lips is an icy shard that plunges straight through Leonard's heart. "Jim, it's me. It's Leonard. You're safe now. We're being rescued," he promises. His hand rubs soft slow circles on Jim's back.

The words burn his throat. He hates this promise- hates that he has to make it all; that it always finds away to make him a liar in the end.

Jim doesn't need to open his eyes to know it's Leonard crouched next to him. The man radiates warmth and safety without even trying. The timber of his voice and quiet reassurance of those steady firm hands that are always there to catch him mixed with the faint scent of Leonard's cologne and something that is uniquely Leonard make every cell in Jim's body sing.

It takes some effort for Jim to uncurl his fingers. They've been cramped and aching ever since he gave up trying to punch his way out of the cell. They eventually cooperated and he doesn't waste one second before wrapping them tightly in Leonard's shirt and clinging on for dear life. They're not going to take Leonard from him again.

"Think we can stand up?" asks Leonard.

Jim frantically shakes his head. He just wants this- to be safely held in Leonard's lap as his husband gently strokes his hair. The rest of the world doesn't exist in this moment.

"Okay, Jim," says Leonard. "Whenever you're ready." Leonard's willing to sit there long past the point where he can't feel his legs and the chill from the stone floor leeches out every last bit of warmth he can generate; however long Jim needs. If waiting happens to irritate the Myatolin guards and drag their discomfort out... icing.

* * *

Jim doesn't say a word as they beam aboard the ship but Leonard can feel the tension dissipate slightly when Chekov removes the restraints the second they appear on the transporter pad.

Leonard feels like he's escorting a zombie to sickbay. He kind of feels hollow and out of it himself. It's a good thing regulations recommend Jim have a separate physician other than his husband because Leonard's not sure he can focus or be objective enough to give Jim an exam.

He sits on a nearby biobed, having refused his own medical examination (he can diagnose his own stress and bruises from the situation later, thank you very much) and watches M'Benga and Christine perform Jim's workup.

Jim sits silently and compliant, staring hard at nothing as M'Benga and Christine work as quickly and professionally as possible. He's not looking at Leonard, but Leonard knows Jim's aware he's there.

Jim's dehydrated and his hands suffered minor cuts, bruising and a few hairline fractures. Jim tolerates the osteo-regeneration but becomes uncooperative when Christine tries to use the dermal regenerator. Addressing his ribs is out of the question at this juncture.

It would be easier if Jim let them finish but in the end it's just cuts and scrapes and a few bruised ribs. If Jim can live with the sore muscles and bandaged hands and chest for a few days, so can Leonard.

Jim still doesn't say anything as they head back to their quarters but he walks quickly and with purpose instead of being led there by Leonard. He makes a beeline for the bedroom the second they walk in the door, grabbing a bottle of bourbon Leonard had been saving on his way and locks the door behind him.

Leonard doesn't even try and stop him.

If Jim wants to solve his problems tonight by drinking a whole bottle, Leonard won't object.

Leonard grabs a bottle of scotch Scotty gave him. It's not his choice of poison but he just needs to get blind drunk right now so he'll drink anything within reach. He sits down in front of the bedroom door and raises the bottle in toast, "To date night."

* * *

"Have I not been kind to you? Shown you mercy?" demands Nero as he paces back and forth in front of the line of kneeling Starfleet officers. No one meets his eyes. His guards make sure of it, looming over huddled prisoners, ready to strike out at any behaviour that displeases them.

"I feed you, and keep you alive." Nero stops pacing in front of the doctor. "And you dare to steal from _me_?" He grabs a fist full of Leonard's hair and yanks him to his feet. There's a collective moment of relief among the other captives- Nero hasn't chosen them.

Leonard winces under the tight grip that doesn't seem to loosen even when he's gotten to his feet. Nero's face is so close to his he can smell the Romulan's warm and foul breath. He knows exactly what this is about but he refuses to regret it, let alone apologise for it.

"Have I not been merciful and humoured your requests, doctor?" Nero demands with a quiet snarl. There's something more terrifying in the intimacy of the quiet closeness. "Answer me!" he says pulling Leonard even closer with a hard yank.

Mercy isn't a word Leonard would use to describe their accommodations or their treatment. Any medical supplies he's been given to tend to his fellow captives has been woefully inadequate if not an all out joke. Nero's playing with them like a cat toying with a mouse.

He stands there, stoic and unflinching. There are no right answers to give. Anything Leonard can offer will only enrage Nero. The best he can do is keep all that rage and evil focused on him.

Nero nods towards one of the guards when no answer is forthcoming. The guard grabs Lieutenant Fitzgivens from the line and drags her to the center of the room. Her leg is pretty much useless at this point. Infection has been killing the limb for weeks despite Leonard's attempts to cut it out in the absence of decent antibiotics.

Fitzgivens locks eyes with Leonard, her face a wash of sheer terror and desperation. It's never good to be singled out by their captors. Leonard's helpless to watch as large tears roll down he cheeks.

"No!" he cries as the guard pulls back his knife and slams it into Fitzgivens's back. The blade slices through her body, appearing through the front in a geyser of blood. She lets out a pained wail, going still and silent as the guard twists the knife before ripping it out. The body crumples to the floor.

Leonard's knees go weak, his breath coming out in short rapid gasps. This is his fault. He stole the medical supplies to help Fitzgivens. He was out of options and desperate. She trusted him to save her and instead they killed her to punish Leonard for his transgression.

"Now you have no need to steal," whispers Nero patting Leonard on the shoulder. God, Leonard wants to wipe that smug self-satisfied smirk off his face. "Am I not merciful?" Nero screams in Leonard's ear. It's so loud Leonard's ears start to ring.

Leniency isn't killing the one Leonard was trying to help. Compassion would have been giving him the supplies he needs to treat what's left of his crew properly, but mercy doesn't live on the Narada. Maybe Fitzgivens is the lucky one after all.

Nero backhands Leonard. His head snaps to the side with a sickening crunch. It throws him off balance enough that he topples over even with Nero's hand tangled in his hair. Nero lets go like he can't be bothered to touch something so dirty.

The room's spinning as Leonard finds his way to his knees. He can't hear anything over the ringing but he can see the look of fear and anger on Jim's face. Jim looks like he's fighting the urge to spring forward and attack the guards. Leonard prays to a god that can't possibly exist here that Jim stays put. He can't have any more blood on his hands.

Nero storms over to his self appointed thrown and flops down. He flicks his wrist at his second in command. A predatory smile overtakes Ayel as he moves in on the doctor. There's blood in the water and Ayel's been desperate to feed for awhile.

Leonard doesn't see the boot coming as it connects squarely with his back, sending him face first into the floor. He does catch a shadow of it as Ayel kicks him in the face. For the first time in weeks, Leonard sees stars. Blood pours from his nose painting the front of his tattered shirt in red.

The nine or so surviving crew members stay silent, looking anywhere but at the blood bath taking place in front of them. All they can feel is relief that it's not them this time, an uncharitable thought that it is. Everyone that is, except Jim. Jim couldn't look away if he wanted to.

It's not the first time Nero's men chose to execute one of their captives in such a display. Jim didn't turn away for any of them either. Someone had to bear witness, to remember who they lost and why. Nero is particularly fond of punishing those that are in charge. He's down to the bottom dregs now, so apparently anyone will suffice; even a doctor who does nothing more than help people- even Nero's when tasked.

Leonard cries out as Ayel stomps down on his hand; the tiny bones no match for Ayel's solid metal heel. He chokes as the blood from his nose pours down the back of his throat using his short pained gulps at air to flow into his lungs. The tears are unavoidable as his ribs cave under the continuous blows to his chest and stomach. Curling into a tight ball doesn't deflect as many as it should.

"Stop it!" shouts Jim. He can't sit idly by while these monsters go to work on Leonard. He goes to stand up and rush to Leonard's defence but two sets of large strong hands hold him in place. "He's had enough!"

Ayel spares a momentary glance at Jim. These humans are so weak and pathetic, he'd hoped for more from them, something worth putting the effort into. They break so easily, both physically and mentally. Ayel turns back to the waste of flesh before him giving the guards permission to handle the human's pathetic uprising.

One of the guards strikes Jim in the head with his staff. The blow sends Jim back down to his knees.

"I'm in charge." Jim knows he'd win by popular vote, hell the prisoners would vote anyone dumb enough to volunteer as the highest ranking officer. Fitzgivens was the last of the actual officers. The rest are new ensigns or cadets with field commissions for field training aboard the Troubadour. Leonard's a lieutenant but has no command experience leaving Jim the only real choice. He'll do it, because he doesn't know how not to and because anything that takes the target off Leonard is the way to go. "You want to punish someone? I told him to steal the medical supplies," declares Jim around his broken front teeth.

He didn't issue any such order. Hell, he didn't even know Leonard was stealing medical supplies for them, let alone that he could. Jim's damn proud of him. Who'd have thought the pacifist in the group would be the anarchist?

"Shut up, Jim," chokes out Leonard. He doesn't know why Jim's always in such a hurry to be Ayel's punching bag.

Ayel doesn't stop. He's found his toy for the day; Jim will just have to wait his turn.

Nero sits silently watching the chaos. Every muffled thud and smack of flesh is music to his ears.

Jim has to do something. They're all so beaten and broken already it won't take much for any of them to be the next Fitzgivens. He will not see Leonard be Nero's next casualty. Leonard is going to grow old, watching his daughter play with his grandchildren from the porch of his old farm house like any good crotchety curmudgeon. Jim just has to make himself more appealing.

"I sent the message!" declares Jim. The admission feels like his soul is leaving his body.

The words pierce the grey darkness that's filling in Leonard's word. He wants to die right there because what's coming isn't something he'll be able to survive. For weeks they have been keeping mum about who managed to send the distress call to the Federation that alerted them to Nero's plan. The Narada is currently on the run from pursuing ships because of what Jim did. Nero's going to strip Jim a part, piece by fleshy piece in retribution for destroying his plan.

Nero sits up a little straighter holding his hand out to halt Ayel from his work. He cut their rations, their medical supplies, worked them tirelessly and beat them senseless and none of them would give up the saboteur. But now for this doctor, the rat has come scurrying out.

Nero crosses the space between his thrown and the prisoners in five large steps. He's practically on top of Jim as he yanks the human close, lifting him up by the throat until they are at eye level. Jim's feet kick out in a desperate attempt to find purchase. "You," he accuses. Nero waited over twenty years to exact his revenge for his family, only to be thwarted by a message from his own ship. "I have something special for you," he says, a tight gleam coming to his eye as he finally has a human worthy of his efforts. He drops Jim to his feet.

Jim stands there as straight as possible. Nero's smile is terrifying but he won't flinch. He won't risk losing Nero's attention. He'll take whatever the Romulan wants to dish out so long as Leonard knows none of it.

"Jim, don't," begs Leonard, still curled on the ground.

Jim looks at Leonard crying on the floor. His father saved the lives of almost everyone on his ship; Pike dared Jim to do better. Jim's going to do better right now. He's going to save the person that matters most in this universe, because damn it if the sun doesn't rise and set with one Leonard McCoy. "Bring it," says Jim, with a steely calm he didn't know he possessed.

"Take him," orders Nero, his men moving quickly to comply. "Take the rest of them back to their cell."

The guards begin to herd the prisoners. "Not him," says Nero as they go to pick up the doctor. He cups McCoy's bruised and bloody jaw tenderly, wiping away one of Leonard's tears with his thumb. "Such a bleeding heart," he says tenderly and it makes Leonard want to throw up. "You get to watch," he whispers.

Leonard really wished they had killed him instead.


	16. Chapter 16

Jim stays locked in the bedroom for two days. Leonard resorts to using the computer to monitor his vitals so he doesn't have to force his way into Jim's 'safe space.'

* * *

The afternoon of the third day Jim unlocks the bedroom door but doesn't come out. It's okay, even a little progress is still progress. Leonard just crawls into bed with him and holds him through his broken sobs.

* * *

"Are you ready?" asks Leonard standing at the door to Jim's hospital room. It's practically been home for both of them for months; both a second prison after escaping Nero and a sanctuary from the big wide world that awaits them out there.

"Yeah," replies Jim sullenly. He just sits there, feet hanging off the bed but not touching the floor. He's bundled up in a baggy hoodie that once used to fit quite nice, but now emphasises just how underweight Jim still is.

Leonard doesn't rush him. They have no real place to be anyways. Leonard still has a month leave before he has to report for duty, which according to Pike will mostly be meetings about whether he's going back to finish his last year at the academy or receive his commission and a posting. Jim's months away from even attempting to be certified fit for return to duty so there's nothing but limbo before them; a long stagnant wait before they can even decide what kind of lives they want to start.

Six of them came home, five of them survived. Riley has already parted ways with Starfleet, vowing never to serve again. Anderson and Felt are still undecided, stuck in the same unending limbo Jim and Leonard are in. Leonard supposes their medical recertification exams will make that determination for them.

"Yeah," says Jim again, nodding his head this time, like he has to convince himself to leave. He's spent most of the time in medical climbing the walls (his leg's still pretty useless so he isn't going to be literally climbing anything any time soon) and now that he can leave it seems too much too soon. "Okay." He slowly inches forward until his feet connect with the floor. Shakily, like a new born calf, he shifts his weight from the bed to his feet. He wobbles a little but in the end, he's standing.

Leonard grips the door frame tighter. All he wants to do is run over there and steady Jim, make sure he doesn't stumble, but this is something Jim wants and needs to do for himself. It's five feet from the bed to the door. Leonard's close to breaking his jaw from clenching his teeth harder with every wobbly and hitched step Jim takes towards the threshold.

"Okay?" he asks as Jim finally makes it to the door.

Jim nods. Sweat's beading on his forehead and he's already tired from that small excursion.

Leonard's already second guessing if it's too soon and they haven't made it to the front door of the hospital. "Maybe we should stay another couple days?" Maybe if he voices it, Jim will agree.

"No. We're going home," says Jim with steely determination. Just to make sure Leonard understands, he steps out of the hospital room.

Leonard grabs Jim by the arm, helping to take some of the weight off of Jim's leg. Together they hobble down the hallway and through the lobby. "Are you ready for this?" Leonard asks. The car's waiting out front but so are the reporters that have been camped out there for months waiting to get a picture of the hero of the Federation. It's a circus out there.

Jim just squeezes Leonard's hand harder. It had just been them, their fellow survivors and a ship of Romulans for a little over six months. After their rescue, it was the crew of the Enterprise and then the medical staff at the hospital and visiting brass officials. This is the first time Jim's going to be out in the world at large with the general public- a public that's been clamouring to regal their hero.

The doors open and it's a mob. Security does their best to hold people back but there's just too many. It's a whirlwind of confusion and noise. Reporters are trying to get quotes they can run in this evening's news by shoving cameras and recording devices in Jim's face. Others are pushing their way to the front to just touch the man whose actions saved someone they love.

Leonard has to hang on tight, so Jim doesn't get swept away in the crowd as he pushes forward trying to get them to the car.

Jim goes pale. Everyone is screaming his name, asking him questions he has no idea how to answer. There's so much and it's so loud, all the voice merge into one overwhelming noise that he can't decipher. There are hands on him that aren't Leonard's, pushing and pulling him in directions he doesn't want to go. It's throwing his precarious balance off. He holds onto Leonard for dear life so he doesn't get swept out into the mob. His grip is so tight he can feel his fingertips breaking Leonard's skin and blood welling up. He doesn't let go though.

Everyone is so close; faces and cameras so far in his personal space he could kiss them. It's claustrophobic. All these people want something: answers, statements, apologises, pieces of Jim that he no longer has to give. They want someone who no longer exists. They're taking all the oxygen and Jim can't breathe.

Leonard has to literally shove Jim into the back of the car, slamming the door quickly behind him. "Drive, go now," order's Leonard as he watches Jim roll onto the floor gasping. He quickly slips behind Jim, clutching him tightly to his chest. "They're gone, Jim. It's just us now."

Jim doesn't respond. He just sits there limply in Leonard's arms trying to breathe.

Leonard takes a slow deep breath, in and then out. "Do you feel that, Jim?" he asks, his chest expanding and contracting in a slow steady rhythm against Jim's back. "Breathe with me. In. And out," he instructs. It takes a few minutes but eventually Jim's able to copy, synching his panic gasps into calm steady breaths in time with Leonard.

* * *

On the fourth day, Uhura comes as an unofficial liaison for the captain. It's a secondary job to checking in on her friends but she's the least intrusive person to come and ascertain Leonard's situation. Spock's put off any formal report from Leonard and has M'Benga coving sickbay- all things they're willing to do to help, but the ship needs to know how long it will be without its chief medical officer on duty.

"I'll report for duty and debrief in two days," assures Leonard. He hopes he's not lying. It's not fair to put hardship on anyone else longer than he needs.

"Okay. I'll let Spock know," she says. She hovers at the door for a moment. Leonard looks broken and haggard like he's been shut away for more than four days. More like a month, on a desert island. His hair is sticking out in tuffs, he's sporting a five o'clock shadow and his eyes are dark and red like he hasn't been sleeping. His hand hasn't stopped trembling since she entered the room. She can't even see Jim but imagines he looks just as rough. She flirts with the idea of hugging him. It will either fortify him or break him and she's not sure Leonard or Jim can handle the latter. "Remember, you have to take care of yourself too."

"I'm fine," snaps Leonard. There will be time to smooth his rough edges later. Just pack it up and shove it in a box to be examined and hashed out later; it's how he's dealt with everything else.

The box is so stuffed full now, it's threatening to explode.

"You're not," says Uhura, her voice even more gentle than usual. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." She doesn't know what she could possibly do to help, but by god, she'll try anyway she can.

* * *

Leonard tosses back another one. He's not even sure what he's drinking anymore but as long as the alcohol content is high, he doesn't much care. He's just so tired.

It's become some kind of morose game he plays- how many drinks will it take tonight. The real loser, is his liver. Normally he'd be concerned that the waitress and bartender don't even have to ask what he's drinking or that he never has to signal for another shot; they never let his glass go dry. Hell he's seen the underside of 'his' table in the early throws of morning more than he has his own apartment.

Pike slides into the booth looking sad and sympathetic and Leonard wants no part of it. He doesn't need anyone's pity. He wasn't the one that came home broken or equally as bad, didn't come home at all.

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" asks Pike. There's no condemnation in his voice only genuine concern. It makes Leonard want to punch him in the face all the more.

"Well past last call," snarls Leonard. If he wanted company he wouldn't be drinking in a dive bar at the bad end of town at two in the morning.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," says Pike with infinite patience.

"I don't know, I survived months of torture aboard the Narada. Be pretty ironic if tequila took me down now." Just the mention of that god forsaken ship makes his eyes burn with tears and his hand shake. "How did you even find me?" he grumbles taking another shot. It's not like their buddies or anything. Leonard knows Pike has a soft spot for Jim and some of that glow probably rubs off on Leonard a little but most of their interactions are professional or Jim related. Leonard's not expecting a Christmas card from the man.

"Rank has its privileges and its spies. Just like I know that after you spend all day in the hospital with Jim you come here and drink until you pass out or someone punches you out," says Pike looking hard at McCoy's scrapped knuckles. Leonard has the decency to look ashamed as he hides his hands under the table. Drunken bar fights are usually a Kirk solution to problems. "So I'll ask you again, how long can you keep going like this? How long until you make a drunken mistake when you're supposed to be acting as a physician?"

Leonard gives Pike a dirty look. Challenging his medical integrity is crossing the line. He'd never do anything to jeopardize someone by being drunk on duty. He doesn't even have patients anyways; he hasn't been certified fit for duty yet. The only one he can treat is Jim and even that he's mostly regulated to act as medical proxy rather than attending physician. "I would never." He takes an E-fifteen injection every morning when he drags his ass back to the hospital to counter act any lingering effects of the previous night for that very reason.

"Not yet," counters Pike, never breaking eye contact with Leonard. "It's just a matter of time though if you continue on this path," he warns.

Leonard shakes his head vehemently.

"You're going all day and night. The only sleep you get is if you're passed out drunk. I'm willing to bet you're barely eating. You can't go on forever like this. It's unsustainable. You're a doctor, you have to know that."

Leonard does know that. He's not even running on fumes anymore, just a chemical cocktail he's administering to himself and the promise that tomorrow, he'll stop, tomorrow will be different. It never is though. There's just not enough of Leonard left to go around and he's trying so desperately to keep it all together but it just feels like its slipping though his fingers like sand. He's been drowning himself in alcohol to take away the fear of sleeping. "I can't sleep," he confesses in a broken sob. "Every time I close my eyes all I see is that place. My dreams are nothing more than watching the crew die on repeat."

Pike shuffles over the worn leather bench seat until he's sitting beside Leonard. He has nightmares about the Narada too, and he was only there a couple of hours. He gently puts his arm around Leonard's shoulders and pulls him close. Leonard's a sobbing broken mess, curling easily into Pike's embrace. "It's going to be alright, son," he sooths.

"No it's not, I can read the medical reports. He's like that because of me," sobs Leonard. He was there, he saw what happened, hell some of it happened to him. Worse, he can read the medical reports. Jim's never going to be the same and there's nothing within Leonard's or modern medicine's power to change that. Whatever their lives should have been, it's gone now.

"He's a live because of you and I promise you, it will get better."

Pike looks so sincere and sure that Leonard wants to ask what dark horror lives in the back of his mind. Instead he sits there crying on Pike's shoulder. And Pike lets him, until long after the tears have run dry.

Leonard been past exhaustion for weeks and he was already tipsy before the captain sat down next to him. Now he's emotionally spent on top of everything else so he doesn't put up much of fight as Pike throws him in a cab. He has no idea where they're going but if Pike wants to be in charge that's good enough for Leonard. He hasn't been making the best personal decisions of late anyways, if sleeping on a sticky sawdust covered barroom floor is any indication.

Leonard's pretty much a puppet under Pike's control as they pull up to a beautiful house with an impressive view of the bay. Pike guides him out of the cab and down the long brick walk way to the front door where the Captain punches in his entrance code. It's a large spacious house that speaks of a successful career. It reminds Leonard of his parents' home in Atlanta.

"Wait here," orders Pike, leaning Leonard up against the wall as he disappears around the corner.

Leonard stands in the foyer feeling rather small and extremely out of place like an incompetent burglar spying on a future victim. The house is pristine and Leonard looks like Pike pulled him out of a gutter somewhere. Hell, Leonard's pretty sure he's been wearing the same uniform all week. He's too dirty and drunk for a place like this. Throwing up on a Captain's expensive rug is all he needs right now.

Leonard kind of looks around, but doesn't venture too far from the door. From what he can see, the place looks like something out of a magazine- beautiful but not very lived in. All the pictures on display are of starships, nothing personal except one on the piano in the living room of Pike with his arm around a happy blond woman that kind of resembles Jim's mother of all people.

"Let's get you to bed," says Pike appearing with a bottle of water in his hand.

"Who's she?" Leonard blurts, pointing to the picture. He might not have succeeded in drinking himself into oblivion but he managed to lose his ability to sensor his mouth. He's not well versed in the Captain's life but from what Jim's told him and what he can piece together from Pike's place, it doesn't seem like Pike has a family tucked away in this house.

Pike glances over at the picture. "The one that got away," he says wistfully.

Leonard cringes. He didn't mean to poke an especially sore spot.

"You need sleep."

Leonard wants to protest, to remind Pike that sleep just doesn't want to associate with Leonard anymore but he's already helping Leonard up the staircase.

Leonard opts for passive resistance instead. If he's too much of a hassle, Pike'll just throw him back in a cab and send him on his way. It doesn't really work out. The Captain just dutifully dresses Leonard, like he's his kid or something, in some sleep clothes when it becomes apparent Leonard can't manage himself. He even tucks Leonard in.

"I can't," sobs Leonard. As much as he desperately wants to close his eyes and drift off, he knows the nightmares and terrors are just waiting to pounce.

"I'll be right here," assures Pike, turning on the bedside lamp. He settles himself on top of the covers beside Leonard, book in hand.

Leonard lies there, listening to sound of paper pages turning until he actually drifts off. To his surprise, it's the morning sun shining through the windows that wakes him.

"How do you feel today?" asks Pike, placing a bookmark near the end of his book.

"You stayed all night?" asks Leonard. Pike had just started the novel when he tucked Leonard it and now the man's almost done with it.

"I said I would."

Leonard's still bone tired and wrung out but he doesn't feel like he's about to tumble off the edge of a cliff. If he could just get a couple more nights of real natural sleep, he might be able to feel human again.

"I'll make us some breakfast," says Pike, standing up and stretching. "There's some clothes in the closet that should fit you if you want to change."

Leonard complies and makes his way downstairs. Pike just stayed up all night to make sure the monsters didn't creep out of the closet, Leonard's not really in a position to argue at this point. Breakfast is quiet. What can Leonard possibly say to someone that's seen him at his absolute rock bottom? Especially when Pike owes him absolutely nothing in this life. It seems weird, but there are no words to articulate the gratitude he feels for something as simple as standing guard during the night. Leonard didn't realize how long it's been since he felt safe.

They're in the car for about twenty minutes before Leonard realizes they're not going to the hospital. In fact, they're heading in the complete opposite direction. "Hospital's the other way," he mummers like the car service doesn't know their way around town.

"Umm-hum," agrees Pike absently as he completes his reports on his PADD. The car doesn't turn around.

"I need to be at the hospital," protest Leonard a little louder. "Jim will be waking up soon and I need to be there."

"We're making a detour today. I'm going to drop you off at Dr Boyce's house."

Oh hell no. Leonard's grateful for the concern but he doesn't have the luxury of playing games. He's at the hospital before Jim wakes up and he stays until Jim goes to sleep for the night. Those are the rules. It's the unspoken promise he made to Jim and to himself and there's nothing that's going to tear them apart again. "I don't have time for whatever this is," snaps Leonard.

"You're going to make time," replies Pike with his own pent up irritation. "I'll stay with Jim at the hospital. You're going to get your shit together because you can't save anyone else if you don't put your life vest on first. I've seen too many good officers fall apart because they didn't take care of themselves. Jim's going to need a lot of help but you have to be able to give it to him and that starts by getting your ducks in a row. Philip Boyce is a good friend and a damn good psychologist."

"But..." stats Leonard though he can't really argue against anything Pike is saying. If it was anyone else, he'd give the same advice. But it's not anyone one else, it's him and Jim- Jim, who instead of worrying about his own ass, did everything in his power to look out for Leonard.

"Jim will understand," Pike assures. "This is about the long game. If you don't take care of yourself now, you're going to be too broken to help when Jim really needs you."

They pull up to a cabin style house just outside the city. Leonard reluctantly gets out of the car, glaring as Pike throws out a duffle bag full of clothing and toiletries. Clearly the captain believes Leonard will be staying more than just the morning. The car waits to drive away until after Leonard knocks on the door and Boyce answers.

"You must be McCoy," says Boyce. "Christopher said you need some help."

* * *

The fifth day brings Scotty and a bottle of whisky in hand. The Scotsman doesn't say where he acquired it and doesn't stay to share a drink. He simply hands it to Leonard and says, "I heard you might need it."

He also hands Leonard a PADD with the latest star charts, "For Jim, when he's ready," and leaves just as quickly as he came.

* * *

"I made you dinner," says Sulu on the sixth day, pushing his way past Leonard and through the door to avoid any awkward silence.

"Come in," says Leonard at a loss. It's too late since Sulu is already setting a table, not that his brain has entirely moved passed its initial shock of having the helmsmen of all people knock at his door. "What do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"Heard you could use a good meal. My husband and daughter once had the flu at the same time," says Sulu as he unpacks a plate setting for two and handful of dishes that smell delicious. "It lasted for three days. Between looking after both of them, I was exhausted. The neighbour was kind enough to bring over bowls of soup and a casserole so I didn't have to worry about making dinner. It wasn't much but one less thing to think about really made a difference."

Chicken soup isn't really a cure all in this particular case. "Jim doesn't have the flu," cautions Leonard. He's a little surprised any of the crew have stopped by. Leonard still remembers the looks of disgust and fear from the crew of the USS Michigan as he walked Jim off the ship for the last time after his breakdown on the bridge. The crew saw a captain that had cracked and put them in danger and Starfleet saw something broken and unsalvageable- both happy to be rid of their problem rather than try to understand it or take responsibility for it. This time the crew got a front row seat to seeing someone they live with savagely beat another being half to death with his bare fists.

Leonard's used to the rollercoaster ride. Even though the majority of the ride is fun, there's still the occasional uphill section to contend with. Most other people don't have the patience for it, once they figure out that this is Jim and Leonard's status quo, they're more than happy to steer clear of the potential shit show. Leonard's gotten good at working around including people in their lives for just that reason. He's been waiting for Spock to send him a dismissal notice since they got back to the ship.

"I know," says Sulu. It's poignant and they both know he's referring to more than just Jim not having the flu. "Family helps each other out when we need it the most, even if it's just bring dinner over or fixing a communications signal."


	17. Chapter 17

"I don't think Jim is going to be up to playing tonight," says Leonard, opening the door to find Uhura and Spock there. Spock has a chess box tucked under his arm.

"That won't be your problem," assures Uhura before Spock can speak, stepping into Leonard's quarters.

Leonard screws up his face. "It won't?" He certainly has no desire to play games, least of all chess which would actually require concentration and brain power. He barely has the mental fortitude to get through his daily tasks right now.

"No. You're going out tonight. A change of scenery will be good for you," she declares. It's been days, Leonard has to be going stir crazy by now.

"I don't know," hums Leonard. He's not really in the mood to be social and he's probably just as bad company as Jim is right now.

"We can sit here and drink or we can go to the ship's bar. The choice is yours. But if we stay here, I might get drunk enough to start recounting tales of certain drunken exploits during exams week," threatens Uhura. She isn't about to drag him out of here kicking and screaming but she knows a change of scenery can do wonders for the soul.

Leonard does not need those horror stories getting out- to anyone. Ever. "You wouldn't."

Uhura stands her ground. "Try me."

"I can't just leave him here," reminds Leonard, looking a little sad. What if something happens or Jim needs him? Then there's the guilt. Why should Leonard go and do something to ease his stress and nerves when Jim's locked himself away? But then again, how good is Leonard if he's a ticking time bomb?

"That's why Spock's here," explains Uhura. "He'll stay in case Jim needs anything or something happens."

"You got me a babysitter?" asks Leonard incredulously.

It throws Uhura for a moment. She was by no means trying to imply that Jim's being a child, (even though he does tend to be one from time to time) but it's kind of exactly what she's done. "No?" she says like she's trying to convince herself more than Leonard. "Spock was just going to stay in and play chess anyways. He can either do that on his own anywhere or he can play with Jim should he choose to join Spock."

"Okay," relents Leonard with a long breath. And it feels kind of nice to have someone else making the decisions right now.

They grab a quiet table in the back of the lounge and order some fancy sophisticated drink to start the night off. They both know the evening will end with one of them carrying the other home, but the pretence is kind of nice. And Leonard's quarters are far closer than the dorms ever were.

"How are you doing, Leonard?" asks Uhura, trying to tread lightly.

"Exhausted," he confesses. He hasn't gotten a lot of sleep between Jim and lying awake when Jim is asleep to replay everything that happened. Jim could have killed that protestor if security hadn't shown up. He very nearly did anyways.

"I mean how are you _really_ doing? Who takes care of you when things like this happen?" She's not going to let him hide behind Jim tonight.

"You don't need to worry about me. Jim's the one..."

"Jim wasn't the only one locked in a cell."

No he wasn't. But Leonard doesn't like to think about that part. He's made a whole career around not thinking too hard about that part. Denial is his greatest tool in his personal med kit. "It wasn't like last time," whispers Leonard, because it wasn't. He's been telling himself that since they got back. There was no torture, no threats. He was barely locked up for a day; hardly enough time for hope to wither and die.

"Have you ever talked about it?" she asks. She has a sinking feeling she already knows the answer and doesn't like it.

"Sure. I think we spent the first six months talking to various shrinks to get back to light duty," says Leonard. He split his time between going to his own appointments and taking Jim to his. He lost his voice for a week from all the talking he was doing when Pike pretty much dumped his ass at a cabin with a psychologist as a form of intervention. None of it silenced the nightmares though; it just turned their screaming to a constant whisper.

"I mean with someone who matters. Jim perhaps?"

Leonard recoils at the idea. "I can't talk about it with Jim." Not rehashing the worst months of their lives was silently written into their wedding vows. "I can't."

"Why not?" If anyone should be able to understand, it should be Jim.

"Because there's so much he doesn't know. There are some things that if he found out... it would be like being there all over again." Leonard's not going to put Jim through that again. They've come too far to go back. Whatever burden is left, it's his to bear. Jim took the blows, Leonard will endure the silence.

"I thought you were all imprisoned together?"

"We were. But there were times that they would separate us. To either punish someone or to interrogate them. Hell, being separated and left wondering what was happening to someone else was its own form of torture. I think Nero liked it best." Except when Nero would make Leonard watch. Leonard goes really still. "Sitting in that cell, waiting, not knowing if they were going to punish Jim, was like being back there."

Uhura takes Leonard's hands in hers. There's a slight tremble in them, but Uhura just squeezes harder.

"Nero's not unlike his pet slugs. He burrowed so far into our souls that his tricks are still working, long after we were rescued. Millions of light years away and almost a decade later and all someone has to do is threaten to separate us and we both fall apart," he confesses sadly, like they should somehow be over it by now.

"You're not alone anymore. If someone tries to pull you apart, we'll bring you back together," promises Uhura. The enormity of the promise is daunting and probably unsustainable but as long as there's breath in her body, she'll do her damndest to see it through. She's sure she's not the only one either. Leonard is extremely likable despite his prickly exterior and Jim's like a bad rash managing to grow on everybody.

Except... maybe not everybody.

"I can't believe shore leave got cancelled because someone flipped out," says one of the ensigns at the next table as the group sits down.

"I heard it was that psych patient we're transporting," adds the Lieutenant. "Something about the color blue triggers a violent episode."

"Why would they even let someone like that on board let alone off the ship on some unexacting world," asks the other ensign, looking particularly horrified.

"Roberts had to pull that animal off of Chekov too," continues the lieutenant with sensationalized enthusiasm.

The other ensign covers her mouth in shock. "That time when Chekov had the black eye?" The lieutenant nods. "Who would want to beat that poor kid? That's like kicking a puppy."

"If he'll attack Chekov, none of us are safe."

Uhura shoots the table an unimpressed glare. Leonard just drops his head into his hands.

"They don't know what they're talking about," promises Uhura.

"I kinda think they have the highlight reel all cued up." Leonard forgot just how fast news could travel on a starship. Leonard could explain until he's blue in the face but no amount of understanding can really undo the damage of seeing someone you live with almost kill someone with their bare hands. He can't even say he blames them for being afraid; Jim can scare _him_ sometimes. If security hadn't pulled Jim off, he would have killed that protester without a second thought.

"You two look like you could use this," says Scotty coming over to the table with an armful of beers. Leonard takes one gratefully, slamming it back in two gulps. Scotty looks equal parts concerned and impressed. "Perhaps something a wee bit stronger than?"

"God yes," agrees Uhura. The table next to them might have trouble getting their personal messages for the next week or so, but Uhura has no idea why a communications glitch would only impact four crewmen.

* * *

Chekov hangs out in their quarters when Leonard takes his first shift back in medical. Leonard didn't ask, the kid just came over in this weird 'can Jim come out and play' sort of way because they'd usually be in the gym today.

Jim's still pretty fortified in the bedroom. Leonard's managed to coax Jim out for a few hours a day and take care of things like eating, bathing and changing clothes. Mostly he just reads to Jim as they curl up in a blanket fort in front of the large view windows.

"Jim, Chekov's here," shouts Leonard towards their bedroom. There isn't any sound or sign of life, not that he was expecting any. Jim isn't exactly talking these days. Jim tried to explain it once, that he goes silent because he can't give the enemy any information and if Leonard is nothing more than a trick they're using to extract information out of him, he'd rather not give them anything they could use against Jim or Leonard like exposing their relationship.

Leonard will just keep being the devoted husband he's always tried to be until Jim believes they're both safe. Leonard's stubborn like that.

"Don't be surprised if he doesn't come out," says Leonard as he heads out the door.

It's actually Leonard who's surprise when he comes home to find Jim and Chekov sitting around the coffee table building some engineering cross science experiment contraption.

"Bones!" greets Jim and it's the greatest sound Leonard's heard all week. It's followed by a quick peck on the cheek as Jim hurries to get back to whatever they're working on.

Leonard takes a seat on the couch and listens to the two of them prattle on in tech speak that Leonard has no intention of learning. He just sits and listens, unwilling to disturb the wildlife.

That night when Jim curls around Leonard in bed, he doesn't cling to Leonard in fear or desperation but holds him in a much missed lover's embrace.

* * *

Spock brings the chess board over the next day during his lunch break. They're in a quiet stretch of space and if the game runs a little long, Commander Roberts can manage the bridge for a bit.

Leonard's given Spock a door code in case Jim refuses to answer the door. Even if Spock cannot convince him to play a game of chess, he can perform a wellness check to put the doctor at ease. It turns out to be unneeded because Jim answers the door, rather unenthusiastically, but he drags himself from the bedroom to do it.

Jim's hair is unkempt, protruding from all angles and he clearly has failed to change out of his sleep clothes. He sits down on one of the dining room chairs as Spock begins silently setting up the chess board. Jim looks like he's about to endure a root cannel.

"Do we have to play here?" asks Jim, small and quiet.

They've never discussed where to play before. Spock started coming here because he figured it would make Jim more comfortable to be in his own environment. He has no objection to playing in his quarters but humans find Vulcan spaces rigid and uncomfortable. "We do not. Where did you have in mind?"

"Can we play on the observation deck?"

The observation deck also serves as a recreation space for the crew with the ship's bar and one of the cafeterias sharing the veranda. There are usually crewmen present regardless the time of day. Spock wasn't aware that Jim was venturing out into social areas. "We may."

Jim nods but doesn't make a move for almost fifteen minutes. Finally he follows Spock out of the quarters. He doesn't change or clean up before they leave but he does leave. That's a big enough step for today.

* * *

The apartment is still quiet when Leonard returns from his run. He got an early start this morning; nerves and dread using his spine as a xylophone all night long. It's the third anniversary since Nero and the first since leaving Starfleet. The whole city is preparing for the day of remembrance and it's impossible to escape the feelings the day brings up. Leonard's not sure if Jim's going to be in the mood to attend or not but he kind of wants to go. Not for the silent admiration but to catch up with what's left of their little group. It would be nice to see Anderson and Felt again.

The shades are still drawn, blanketing everything dim rosy light. Clearly Jim hasn't ventured from bed today either. "Computer, open blinds," orders Leonard as he kicks off his runners at the door. It's a beautiful San Francisco morning. Time to get out there. Four months of moping is getting tiring to watch.

He picks up the stack of PADDs piled haphazardly in the middle of the floor this time, having almost broke his ankle on them while trying to sneak out this morning. They're all Jim's. The kid's always been kind of messy, able to drop anything anywhere so he can move on to something else.

He happens to glance at the top one. It's a job offer of all things, from Triton University to teach at their moon campus. It's kind of a big deal; one of the top schools in the galaxy and they want Jim's engineering and historical expertise.

"Time to get up," suggest Leonard as he grabs one of the blankets hiding Jim from sight and pulling it off on his way to grab a shower.

"Leave me alone," moans Jim just burying himself further in the remaining mound of blankets he's been cocooned in for the last four days.

He still hasn't moved by the time Leonard's gotten out of the shower. "Jesus," snaps Leonard as he trips over the empty bottles of vodka lying on the floor near the bed. Jim's assembling quite the collection. "This is what you're going to do with your life?" asks Leonard as he sits on the edge of the bed to get dressed.

"What life?" mumbles Jim from under his pillow.

Leonard frowns. "Oh, I don't know? How about the sixty to eighty years you have left despite your best efforts." He doesn't say it with malice; he knows Jim's struggling right now. Losing Starfleet wasn't a blow they were prepared for. But it's not the end of the story either. "Were you going to tell me about the offer from Triton University?"

"Fuck you!" snaps Jim, throwing the pillow across the room. He sits up and glares at Leonard. "You know what the problem with success is? Once you've had it, know what it feels like, you can't go back to failure. Before it was just a question, maybe I could be something, maybe not. I could live my life believing maybe it would work out but now I know what I've lost, what my life will forever be missing and it sucks. I'm not going to be some prop for a university or anyone else to parade out as a name and spew on about the glory days."

Leonard reaches out and rubs at Jim's calf on his good leg. This holding pattern isn't working either. Jim won't leave the apartment because he doesn't want to run into people he knows, to see the look of pity or disgust they try to conceal. They don't have visitors because hearing about how well everyone else is doing is just another knife. "Then what do you want to do?"

"Let's get out of here. Somewhere where they don't know our names," proposes Jim.

"You want to leave San Francisco?" asks Leonard incredulously.

"It's not like we're Starfleet. Nothing is keeping us tied here."

Leonard is fortunate enough to be able to work anywhere. And he already doesn't live in the same city as his daughter so the custody arrangement won't change. A fresh start could be the thing they need to get back on track. "Where'd you want to go?"

"Pike has an apartment in Vancouver he said we could rent."

* * *

_Lieutenant Commander Una "Acting Captain" USS Enterprise._

_RE Report._

_We have sustained heavy damage to the ship along with thirty-six casualties and fifty-four injuries including a critically injured Captain Pike. The Narada and all her Romulan crew went down with the ship which was destroyed along with Ambassador Spock's ship as per orders. Of the reported fifteen remaining Troubadour survivors still held captive, only six were still alive. We rescued all of them but two are in critical condition the other four are in stable condition._

_Survivors are:_

_Ensign Melody Abrams *critical_

_Cadet Michael Anderson (field commission Ensign)_

_Cadet Lindsay Felt (field commission Ensign)_

_Cadet James Kirk (field commission Ensign) *critical_

_Cadet Leonard McCoy (field commission Lieutenant)_

_Ensign Samuel Riley_

* * *

Leonard leans casually against the bathroom door watching with fondness as Jim fusses with his hair. It's more frustration than vanity that keeps Jim in front of the mirror and Leonard can't find any other way to describe the way Jim's forehead crinkles as he tries to concentrate on taming the longish locks, than adorable. If he takes a moment to appreciate the fine lines and curve of Jim's ass in his dress pants, well that's just a bonus to waiting on Jim to get ready.

"Okay," huffs Jim, finally getting his hair right. He brushes his hands over his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. Everything has to be perfect; the day demands no less.

"Are you sure you want to go?" asks Leonard. He spent a few hours last night fretting over today's proceedings. There's always a lot of people who attend ceremonies on this day of remembrance but being on a ship means most of the crew will taking part. "There'll be a crowd." As an officer he's obligated to attend the ceremony but Jim isn't required to be there.

Jim takes a deep breath. "I want to be there," he insists. They're on a ship now. It will definitely be noticed if he hides away today. He steps towards Leonard, running his hands over Leonard's shoulders and across his chest to smooth out his uniform shirt. Leonard always looked rather sharp in his dress uniform. Jim frowns. "You have these ones backwards again," he says, rearranging Leonard's service medals to sit in the right order.

Leonard captures Jim's hands in his before Jim pins the final medal back on his shirt. He carefully takes the pin and fastens it to the breast of Jim's navy sweater. He runs his hand over it, before letting it rest over Jim's heart. He and Jim were both awarded the Star Cross for their heroism aboard the Narada. While Leonard's still required to stuff himself in a damn dress uniform from time to time, Jim's medal is currently residing at the bottom of the San Francisco Harbour.

"Bones," protests Jim. It's a well earned medal that belongs on an officer. "It's yours. I don't even have a uniform to wear it properly."

"It's my god damn medal and I'll put it where ever I want." He certainly paid for it with enough blood and tears and won't be afraid to explain it to anyone who takes issue with Jim wearing it. Leonard pulls Jim close, kissing the top of his head. They stand there, entangled until the last possible moment.

"You forgot something," says Leonard grabbing Jim's cane from the couch.

"Not today," replies Jim, with pleading eyes.

It's going to be a long ceremony that requires them to be on their feet far longer than Jim can typically stand but Jim seems determined to prove something to someone. "Alright."

They start the remembrance ceremony with the captain giving the usual recap of the events that transpired during Nero's brief reign of terror. Leonard doesn't really listen to Spock's speech; he has a better understanding of events than most. Instead he focuses on Jim's subtle fidgeting as the speeches carry on and wonders if Jim's pride was worth more than the pain he's inflicting on himself.

"We will know observe five minutes of silence," says Spock and everyone in attendance stands at attention. "One minute in honour of Vulcan. One minute in honour of the ships we lost trying to defend it. One minute for those who perished aboard the Troubadour. One minute to honour those lives of officers lost aboard the Narada and one minute to honour the bravery of the survivors.

Just as deathly silence falls over the ship, Jim takes Leonard's hand in his and whispers, "It's our wedding anniversary."

* * *

It's dark and dank in the bowls of the ship. It's not even a proper jail cell, just a repurposed section of one of the ore storage spaces. There are a couple emergency lights that barely bathe the space in eerie red and green light. It makes lying on the makeshift barrack bunks even more unbearable. Perhaps the most claustrophobic part is the lack of view ports. At least with a view of the stars there'd be some confirmation that they were still alive, that the universe exists beyond this hell.

Leonard twists and tries to worm himself into a more comfortable position on the wide pipe cluster he calls his bunk in a desperate bid to try and capture sleep which never really settles in. It's cold and unforgiving, playing merry hell on his back but the foot of water that covers the floor in a stagnant lake makes it impossible to try and sleep there.

It's been quiet lately. There used to be a lot of chatter and determination in the beginning when their numbers were greater. There were orders and plans and hope. Now the walls are painted with the blood of those who met a violent end at the hands of Nero's men. Leonard's not sure if those poor bastards are the lucky ones or not.

As the deaths pile up, their cage grows quieter. It's not just people that are dying here- hope's being slaughtered too, just at a slightly slower pace.

Leonard lets out a long sigh. He can hear Jim fidgeting above him. His leg must be killing him. Leonard shudders to think about it. A broken bone, even one broken in two places is hardly a speed bump in medicine, but since their captors have taken away all Leonard's medical supplies he's forced to resort to medieval methods. Splints are only so effective, especially in these conditions, and he can see it in the way Jim's leg has healed. If it's not his leg bugging him then his shoulder is probably out. Leonard's lost count of the number of times he's had to put it back in. A strong breeze could probably dislocate it now which makes it a favourite game for the guards.

"Quit squirming and go to sleep," snaps Leonard, trying his best to retreat into unconsciousness. They need any respite they can get before Nero decides he wants to _speak_ to one of them again.

"Marry me?" says Jim, splitting the silence with his hoarse voice.

Leonard's eyes snap open. Sometimes Jim likes to talk just to hear the sound of his own voice, to hear anything other than the drips and sloshes of water and their own ragged breaths as their numbers dwindle. Anything is better than listening to death creep in, so Leonard will play along. "Do I look like someone who accepts a marriage proposal in a dark dank water filled dungeon?" he says sarcastically.

Jim counters, "Do you have any better offers at the moment? Keeping in mind, I'm a catch."

Leonard pauses for a moment. This game is on the verge of being too painful to play. "I could do better," he assures because what Jim is playing at is dangerous. Leonard can't risk a broken heart when his body and soul are already broken. Not only is Jim implying there's a future but that _they_ have a future and deep down while Leonard would like nothing more, he knows this isn't something Jim really wants to follow through with. "McCoys like to be wooed, romanced. You didn't even bother to get down on one knee."

Jim laughs. "Wooed? That word is almost as old as you."

"See, you need some young thing that can keep up with you." Leonard's sat on the sidelines and watched as Jim's gone through potential partners like the sun burns through hydrogen. He's not willing to be another notch on Jim's headboard even if it would be the happiest moment of his life. Jim's just talking to make sure Leonard doesn't give up should a miracle decide to befall them- a pretty lie to keep Leonard clinging to life. If only Jim knew how cruel it was. Leonard will let it slide on account of the fact that Jim's probably not in his right mind due to pain and circumstance.

Jim rubs his aching leg. The constant fire of pain has been so raging for so long; it's faded to merely a simmer in his mind. "Don't think keeping up with me is going to be an issue." It doesn't take much for the reality of their situation to sink its fangs back into conscious thought. It's almost a certainty they're going to die here. Jim's holding out for a miracle but even his disbelief in no win scenarios has taken a serious hit.

"Not marrying you would be the single regret of my life," laments Jim. He's had a lot of time to think about life and regret and just what he would do if he gets another chance at life beyond this prison.

"Single regret?" asks McCoy, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. "You'd only have just the one?"

"Yep," answers Jim with defiant certainty.

Leonard can think of dozens of things he regrets. Christ, he can think of dozens of things Jim should regret and they have nothing to do with saddling himself with an old broken doctor who's ruined his life once before. "What about the girl that turned out to be a prostitute from Denova Prime? The one with the..."

"Space VD," supplies Jim helpfully.

"That'd be the one," Leonard sighs.

"Good times," says Jim with a self-satisfied smirk.

Leonard rolls his eyes. "It ain't a badge of honor to contract sexual transmitted diseases, Jim."

"It was one hundred percent curable by the way," assures Jim leaning his head over the beam like a kid peaking over the top railing of the top bunk.

"I know," grumbles Leonard. "I was the one who cured it! Didn't see you knocking on anyone else's door at three am complaining about itchy spots and feelin' like a water balloon."

Jim shudders thinking about it. That part wasn't as fun but he instinctively knew who he trusted enough to help. "That was the first time you spent the entire night with me," points out Jim. It was totally worth it to wake up with Leonard warm and steady next to him, the morning sun painting him with an ethereal glow. It was the best night of Jim's life and they hadn't even had sex.

Leonard has a soft spot for puppies and Jim. Jim has a super power of looking all pathetic and needy that makes Leonard weak in the knees. "I didn't want you to have an allergic reaction and choke on your own tongue in the middle of the night is all."

Jim frowns. "You told me you can't actually swallow your tongue."

"You can't swallow it but you can choke on it." Because really, leave it to Jim to do just that. But that's not why he stayed.

"You've just turned my world upside down," says Jim with a slight pout. "I knew it then. And I've been thinking about it ever since," he confesses with a level of sincerity Leonard's never heard before.

"Thinking? Don't hurt yourself, Jim."

It goes silent for a few moments and Leonard thinks maybe Jim's finally gone to sleep. Except eventually the pipes start to squeak and groan under Jim's renewed squirming followed shortly by a splash as Jim climbs down and drops into the water where he kneels next to Leonard's 'bunk'.

"What the hell are you doing?" demands Leonard. Not only is the idiot kneeling in cold dirty water which is probably disease infested but Leonard intentionally shoved his ass on the top bunk in the hopes that Jim's leg would keep the kid stuck up there for a few hours.

"Marry me?" says Jim, looking like Leonard holds the fate of the universe in his hands.

Leonard stares in disbelief. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought because there's no way Jim is proposing to him for real. Part of him wants to say yes, for this moment to be real and genuine but it's more likely a ploy by Jim to try and give Leonard hope or worse, some 'let's make the best out of a bad situation, regret it in the morning' crap. He's not going to play whatever game Jim is playing at, some near death crisis shit he's trying to pull in the face of their inevitable demise.

"You have a head injury, Jim. You need to lie down," says Leonard, before rolling over and feigning sleep.

* * *

"You never answered me," says Jim, casually like he's talking about the weather.

Leonard rolls his eyes. He thought this topic was dead days ago. "Stupid questions don't get answers."

Jim huffs. "You know you want to," he sings. "We're practically an old married couple anyways."

"Then what's all the fuss?" Leonard's happy with what they have, mostly because he doesn't dare hope for anything more. He knows the moment he could have easily slid from being best friends to lovers, the problem is Jim's never showed the slightest inkling nor has he slowed down in what will be a legendary conquest of sexual partners during his academy years. Leonard refuses to be a pit stop on the Kirk orgasmic world tour. Loving Jim wouldn't be a flash in the pan for him and can't get Jim only to have the kid walk away so easily after.

"Might not get out of here," points out Jim. Even if Leonard does it just to humour him, it will be enough for Jim.

"Be still my heart," mutters Leonard.

* * *

All this sit around and wait to be tortured time is giving Jim too much time to think. "I could perform the ceremony myself," Jim declares. He knows deep down Leonard cares about him. Maybe if he makes it super easy, Leonard will grant him this one indulgence. If they're going to die anyways, it's not like anyone would know so there's really no entanglement for Leonard if that's what he's worried about.

"What are you going on about now?" snarls Leonard, ripped from a light doze.

"The captain has the authority to marry people. I could marry us, here, now."

Leonard shakes his head. "Promoted yourself to captain have ya?" Now Jim's having delusions of grandeur to go along with his flight of fancy.

"All the other ranking officers are dead now," says Jim, low and quiet like saying it out loud will wake the dead. They're down to a handful of cadets who were issued the field rank of ensign for the purposes of being on the Troubadour. There isn't a real command officer left. Jim could make a handful of arguments for being the next most worthy candidate to hold rank but he doubts anyone would want the title. Leonard is technically a Lieutenant but since he's in the medical track and not command, Jim's not going to breathe a word about him technically being in charge. It comes with too high a price.

"I'm not going to get married only to make someone a widow right away," laments Leonard. He's not aiming to be widowed either.

"You're going to live a long life, Leonard McCoy," says Jim sagely.

"We have some captors just itchin' to prove you wrong."

* * *

"Have you changed your mind today, Bones?"

"This is not the sort of engagement story I'm telling my daughter."

"You sure? It has everything. An evil overlord, and a white knight to sweep you off your feet."

"You get us out of here Mr White Knight, and then we'll talk."

* * *

"Leonard Kirk has a certain ring to it," claims Jim.

"I'm keeping my last name," objects Leonard.

"Alright," concedes Jim. "James T McCoy."

"No!"

"Fine, we'll hyphenate," says Jim sullen like at chastised child. He doesn't know why Leonard can't just get onboard.

"Shouldn't you be trying to find us a way out of here instead of proposing stupid ideas?" asks Leonard, because the kid's spending a lot of time and energy on useless dreams.

"I can do both," Jim assures with a conviction Leonard slightly envies.

Leonard just shakes his head. The kid's made a whole career out of dumb ideas and pulling miracles out of his ass.

* * *

"Marry me?" hisses Jim, trying to breathe through a particularly painful spasm.

"Yes," say Leonard, hoping to shut Jim up for a moment. He needs all his energy to concentrate on not bleeding to death today, not whatever false hope Jim is pedaling.

"Really?" Jim dares ask, lifting his head up with renewed energy.

"No, Jim. Don't be stupid. Won't make it long enough to see the wedding night." If blood loss doesn't get him, the fever most likely will. "No place to have a ceremony anyways."

"What are you talking about? I have it on good authority dungeon chic is in for wedding venues this year. And Ensign Abrams," says Jim, straining his neck to try and get a better view to see if there's any rise and fall from her chest, "can be the flower girl. And you'll make it," he adds, like he's been hiding some crystal ball from Leonard.

"You organize ... it, Jim," says Leonard, sleepily. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore.

* * *

Jim's right. Not about dungeon chic, but Leonard does make it; through the night at least. And the next couple of nights until one of the guards finally notices Leonard's been a little sticky with their medical supplies and takes exception to their use.

Trust that self sacrificing idiot to take all the attention off of Leonard and bring it down on himself. It's two of the longest days of Leonard's life (and that's saying something given the hell they've been living in for the last couple of weeks) before they drag Jim's beaten and limp body back to dump face down in their cell.

Leonard's never moved so fast. He pulls Jim from the water, turning him over gently in his arms. Jim opens those baby blues and says, "Marry me now?"

Leonard doesn't know whether to smack him or kiss him. Maybe it's almost losing Jim or maybe it's the realization that none of them are getting out of this and not marrying Jim will be one of his biggest regrets too. Or perhaps, it's because for the first time Leonard realizes that Jim is actually serious about it. "Yes. I'll marry you."

Jim smiles.

"Not here though. I'll marry you the second we step foot off this ship, so you need to hang on, you hear me Jim Kirk. You're going to make it. Promise me."

"I do," is all Jim says before the ship shakes violently and warning alarms sound.


	18. Chapter 18

It doesn't seem real. Leonard's not entirely convinced it's not the last prayer of his dying body trying to give him a peaceful dream to slip away with, despite the fact that he is sitting on the floor of one of the Enterprise's shuttles doing his best to put pressure on one of Jim's wounds.

Leonard can't describe the relief he feels to get his hands on actual state of the art medical supplies. There aren't enough though. Jim and Abrams are critical, two of the Enterprise officers are dead and Captain Pike's in really bad shape. The shuttle can't get to the ship fast enough.

Leonard steadfastly ignores the dull ache in his gut and the warm spread of blood that's accompanying it. He doesn't have time to worry about himself. He grabs a scrap of bandage and hastily packs his wound. "Don't move him," yells Leonard as one of the junior officers tries to help the captain. "Spinal injury, you can't move him."

Just lying Pike down in the shuttle probably caused more damage than Leonard wants to think about, but they couldn't leave him back on the Narada after Nero ran him through with his sceptre. Nero was determined to go out in a blaze of glory destroying his ship in the process so there wasn't time for proper transport of the critically wounded. He just prays it's still fixable; he owes Pike that much for saving them.

Jim's eyes snap open. "Bones?" he asks, frantically looking around the shuttle the best he can without moving his head. It's not familiar surrounds and there's a chaos happening around them that seems more desperate than frightening.

"Shhhh," soothes Leonard, running his hand through Jim's hair. "I'm right here. We're saved. The Enterprise saved us."

That's the most beautiful thing Jim's ever heard. Even if it is possibly a pretty lie uttered on Leonard's gorgeous lips. He hopes it's more than a prayer whispered by an angel. "Enterprise? Pike?" asks Jim. The room is spinning and his stomach rolling; the only clear thing is Leonard leaning over him.

"He's right here," says Leonard, scooting out of the way so Jim can get a glimpse of their saviour lying on the floor beside him.

Pike's face pinches as he looks over at Jim. "I should have known it was you Kirk. Trust you to get tangled up in something like this," he says fondly with a wave of relief that the kid hasn't run out of lives yet.

Jim smiles and it's his usual boyish smirk despite the blood staining his teeth.. "I was endanger of not winning our bet."

"Bet?" asks Pike confused. Blood loss must be doing a number on either him or the kid, probably both.

"Three years," says Jim and it's barely above a whisper. "Let's see them keep me out of that captain's chair now."

Pike chokes back a laugh. Leonard just rolls his eyes. "Let's get you fixed up first. Unbelievable you still want to go back out into space after all this." Leonard wishes he had a tenth of Jim's fight. He grabs a hypo and administers some pain killers into Jim. Almost immediately the tight lines around his eyes and rigidness in his limbs disappear.

A goofy smile over takes Jim. "Hey captain, can you do us a favour?"

Pike looks at Jim incredulously. They're barely hanging on to life and Jim wants a favour. He has serious doubts about entertaining such a request. "Not sure I'm in a position to grant any favours right now." Christ he literally can't stand, what could Jim possibly want?

"Marry us?" asks Jim.

"What?" say Pike and Leonard at the same time. They can't have heard that right.

Jim locks eyes with Leonard. "You said the second we got out. It's been several seconds, Bones."

It feels like the universe lives and dies in that moment. Jim's stats are trash. Leonard's not naive enough to believe that rescue came in time for all of them. There's a very real chance Jim's not getting off this shuttle. Leonard realizes he doesn't want to live his life without ever having been Jim's. "Okay." He takes Jim's hand and squeezes it tight.

Pike looks skeptical. "Are you sure, McCoy?" Because neither are probably in the best position to be making life altering decisions right now, but who is he to get in the way of this.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life," says Leonard.

Pike manages to recite the vows through gritted teeth as McCoy moves back and forth between he and Jim in an effort to impart some medical aid.

"Do you, James Tiberious Kirk, take Leonard McCoy to be your husband?"

"Without a doubt yes."

"Do you, Leonard..."

"Horatio," supplies Leonard.

"Do you, Leonard Horatio McCoy, take James Kirk to be your husband?"

"I always will."

"Then I now pronounce you husbands for life."

Leonard leans down and kisses Jim. He can feel the exact moment Jim goes slack and lifeless. It's a cruel universe that sees fit to try and make Leonard a widow on his wedding day.

* * *

After the moments of silence the ceremony draws to a close. Key crew members that managed to slip away while on duty hurry back to their stations while everyone else kind of congregates in slow moving herds talking about where they were when Nero struck or tales of glory about a friend or a loved one. No one ever has the same tales Jim and Leonard hide.

Jim's already antsy, his skin crawling with the nearness of everyone. Personal space means nothing when people are trying to all leave at the same time. He grabs a fist full of Leonard's dress shirt and trails behind as Leonard tries to navigate the crowds.

"You look familiar," says a Lieutenant who ends up standing next to Jim as they wait for the crowd to start moving again. He stares at Jim, trying to figure out just where they may have crossed paths.

"I have one of those faces," says Jim, keeping his eyes straight ahead at Leonard's back.

"That's not it," he insists. He's diffidently seen this crewman before and not in a work setting. It's like an itch in the middle of his back that he can't reach. It's something important.

"I do porn," snaps Jim. Why can't people just take a hint? Jim can feel the cold sweat beading on his forehead. Does he really look like someone that wants to chit chat?

The Lieutenant shakes his head. "Something with Starfleet," he counters. It's right on the tip of his tongue. He can picture the gold command shirt now. "I remember," he declares in triumphant, "you're Jim Kirk."

Jim moves his head in some jerky denial. "I'm not," he insists. And Jesus, people are starting to look.

"You are," continues the Lieutenant, smiling like the Cheshire cat. It's not often one gets to stand in front of their hero. Especially when it's been about eight years since anyone has seen the legend.

A whisper starts to spread, moving around the crowd. All eyes narrow in on Jim. Jim can't breathe. He can't even move. Leonard's shirt slips out of his hand as he starts to move away with the crowd leaving Jim standing there. He wants to scream out for Leonard to stop, to not leave him alone but nothing comes out except short little gasps. The room starts to spin and Leonard gets sucked into the throngs of people, unaware Jim isn't glued to his side anymore.

The enthusiastic lieutenant is talking, bubbling with questions. Nero this, and Narada that. And how did you figure out his plan to destroy Vulcan? And suddenly the room erupts with more questions from more people. The murmurs are like a tidal wave crashing down on Jim sending him down into murky depths and he can't breach the surface. He tries to move but he just ends up spinning with the room. Everywhere he turns is another person with more questions, more demand of Jim.

He can't breathe.

The floor disappears and he's in free fall. The world a swirl of strange faces all moving in closer and sucking out what little air there is. "Bones!" he squawks and it doesn't carry over the rushing sound in his ears. Suddenly he's on the ground. He crawls, searching blindly for an exit but if anything the people seem to form a tighter wall.

"Move!" yells Leonard to be heard over the crowds. He pushes and pulls whoever gets in his way. He'd hit them all for being idiots but Jim's on the ground with his knees pulled tightly to his chest and mouthing something unintelligible with his eyes shut tightly.

Leonard kneels down, wrapping Jim tightly in his arms. He locks eyes with Scotty who's made his way over managing to part the sea of people. "Get them out of here," he orders.

Scotty nods, exchanging his look of worry for one of determination. "Alright, nothing to see here. Best be on yer way." He waves the crowd out, waiting for every last person to exit before leaving himself.

The silence is almost worse than the noise. Jim buries his own raggedy breaths in Leonard's shirt. He can feel Leonard's arms around him anchoring him, Leonard's large steady hands rubbing soothing circles along his back. Leonard's cologne fills Jim's nose with the promise of safety and home. Jim never wants him to let go.

"I'm a fucking mess," whispers Jim, wiping away his tears. He's getting really good at making a scene lately. He can feel the vibration of Leonard chuckling.

"You're my mess," replies Leonard. "You ready to get out of here?"

Jim nods, not trusting his voice to not beg for something more. He wants to run, run all the way back to the farm where nobody knows exactly what kind of mess they're dealing with, where the animals know him as Jim, not James T Kirk, disgraced captain. If he couldn't face these people today, how the hell is he supposed to do it tomorrow?

Leonard helps him to his feet, slow and steady unwilling to rush Jim. Jim looks at him, really looks at his husband standing there in his blue dress uniform, medals and all. Leonard's a god damn hero and not just when the universe is on the line- every god damn day, when it doesn't matter and nobody's looking. He belongs here. Who's Jim to make him walk away from that all over again?

"Ready?" asks Leonard, wrapping his arm around Jim's waist as they take their first steps back to their quarters.

Jim follows because this isn't his world anymore.

* * *

_Federation News bulletin:_

_One of the Troubadour survivors has died_

* * *

The rumour mill kicks into high gear again. Leonard can tell by the way all conversations turn to whispers and all eyes follow him when he takes lunch in the cafeteria. He's kind of glad Jim's back to his self imposed isolation. The glares are getting on his nerves, he can't imagine what they'd do to Jim.

They make Leonard feel like a criminal, an imposter that tried to live among them and pass as one of their own. He supposes he and Jim aren't like regular people anymore. Maybe they never were to start with.

They're braver in the corridors and cafeteria but sickbay is another thing. Patients seem to go out of their way to be agreeable with his orders; never questioning them and following them to a tee. He hasn't had to threaten anyone in weeks. Even engineering has seen a number of reduced calls. He highly doubts they've suddenly gotten better about not dropping things on their feet.

Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty act normal for the most part but there's an elephant in the room; some question they're dying to ask but aren't willing to bring up. Uhura just looks kind of sad, like the memorial ceremony answered any questions she could possibly have. Spock just looks like he doesn't have to carry a secret anymore. Leonard even swears he hears Spock thank Jim for his service one night during their chess game.

* * *

Jim goes to engineering but it feels like a real effort now. He can feel the eyes on him, hear the gentle whispers that follow him through the corridor- the ones they think he can't hear. He has brain damage- not hearing loss. It's the look of fear and of pity that he's long since grown tired of. It's why he left San Francisco; all those former colleagues and friends just waiting to bump into him, to ask why it all went wrong. Jim wants to run now, leave the crew of the Enterprise in the dust with their disappointment and horror. Leaving a ship is a little harder than leaving a city though.

Leonard's tentative trial period is almost up. Maybe Jim should just tell his husband they should go back to the farm. Back to where Jim can just be Jim McCoy, husband and part time husbandry enthusiast. Five little words and Leonard would have their bags packed and Jim on the next shuttle home.

Leonard's never seemed happier. It's a tightly contained excitement that he keeps buried way down where no one can steal it, but Jim sees it. He sees it every time Leonard rants about moronic junior engineers being clumsy or what exactly are they teaching junior medics these days? He sees it when Leonard comes home exhausted from spending all night in the lab trying to figure out a vaccine or antidote to some newly discovered fungus. Leonard's alive in a way that he hasn't been for a long time- in a way Jim's just not capable of providing.

Who's Jim to take that away from Leonard again?

Maybe Jim should just make a ship wide announcement. 'Attention crew, yes I'm former Captain Kirk, yes I probably did everything they've said I've done and then some. Yes I survived Nero, no I don't know why me over anyone else. Any worst case scenario you can imagine, it was a million times worse than that. Yes, if you catch me on the wrong day I'll probably knock you in to next week.' Or he could just wear something flashy that's worthy of all the attention the crew wants to give him.

Jim grips his cane tighter and avoids eye contact with anyone. Eye contact just invites conversation and he can't bring himself to actually address any of their concerns.

Thankfully it's late in beta shift and engineering is mostly empty. Scotty and Chekov don't miss a beat, falling into their regular rhythm of banter and work as Jim walks in and perches on one of the consoles near the back bulkhead. Jim stays quiet and out of the way. He feels like the ghost that is James T Kirk, as though Jim McCoy was a lie that's now been exposed. Nothing's changed but everything has changed.

Nobody says anything directly to Jim about the recent revelation, no matter how much the need to is desperately painted on their faces. He's almost certain Leonard's threatened them all within an inch of their lives to secure the crew's silence. Jim's not sure if he should be grateful for that or not.

Jim can tell Scotty and Chekov have questions tumbling around in their brains. At least there's no pity of fear in their eyes.

He's tired of talking about it even if everyone else is not. He relives enough shitty moments, he'd like to bury that one for good. Except there's a void between him and everyone else, built by silence and filled with everything he doesn't say and lies forged to keep the void from sight.

"Are ye gonna join us or just sit there like a brooding gargoyle?" asks Scotty, staring expectantly at Jim.

Jim just shrugs. He's too tired and broken to pretend this little experiment isn't ending in his usual tire fire.

"Ye can just pout somewhere else if that's your plan for the day. I've got a sonic driver that can hold the console down just as good as you sitting on it can and a couple of junior engineers who'd be just as productive," scolds Scotty, looking around to see where said junior nitwits he's been saddled with tonight have wandered off to. He gets Jim's situation and how daunting it must be, but this is him and Chekov here- they deserve a little effort.

Jim frowns. That's not the response he was expecting. Chekov's nervous like he's mentally preparing his report to the captain about how a brawl broke out in engineering or worse, like Dr McCoy will appear out of the shadows like a demon and tear into him and Scotty. Scotty just seems like he's not in the mood for Jim's shit. It reminds Jim a little of Uhura or Leonard.

Jim's so used to people showing him with pity, fear or questions that irritation over Jim feeling sorry for himself throws him off his game somewhat. "You don't have any questions," snaps Jim at a loss. Everyone has questions; how could they not? The answers never seem to satisfy people in a way that brings them closer to Jim. If anything they drive people away, leaving Jim to tread water on his own.

Scotty rolls his eyes, like Jim's especially stupid. Chekov on the other hand looks like he's been asked to participate in a murder and his only escape is to jump from a moving transport. Jim makes a mental note to avoid pulling any capers with the kid. Poor guy is just too innocent and straight laced for his own good.

"Aye, about a billion. But if ye wanted to talk about it ye probably would have told us who you were months ago," replies Scotty crossing his arms. He tries not to sound wounded. He was under the impression they were getting on like a house on fire but if Jim didn't feel he could open up about his past (not necessarily the nitty gritty details but maybe a 'oh hey I was a Captain for a bit but it wasn't for me' would have sufficed) then maybe Scotty's got some more work to do.

"I don't want to talk about it," comes out of Jim's mouth reflexively with a tinge of defence to it.

"Great!" snaps back Scotty with equal force, "then how are we gonna fix the sonic relays on deck sixteen without a draxton coil ready?"

Jim slams his feet on the deck, rising off the console. "The reclamation relay on deck thirty has two but can function with one. We could pull one from there until a new one is calibrated." The words fly from his mouth like quick successive punches powered by all the frustration that's been building for days. He doesn't want to talk about the remembrance ceremony or the other thing.

Except maybe he does because, "What are your questions?" flies out of his mouth too.

Chekov and Scotty look at each other, silently seeking confirmation that they heard Jim correctly.

"Um... really?" asks Scotty, quietly.

This is Jim's chance to take it back, to close a potential Pandora's box. Jim's never been good at self-preservation. "What do you want to know?" he says and it sounds like a plea, like he's trying to barter with an incoming wave to leave his sandcastle untouched. For the first time in a long time, he actually cares if someone can know the truth and still want him around. More specifically, he needs to know if Scotty and Chekov are willing to weather the storm that is Jim Kirk because Jim doesn't know if he'll be able to survive being on the Enterprise without them.

Jim sits quietly on a control panel again turning a sonic driver in his hand. There's a calm silence between the three of them- Jim not sure is he can handle the fallout of what's to come and Scotty and Chekov turning over what they should as ask and what they really want to know.

Scotty asks "What did happen on the Michigan Jim? If you don't mind me askin?"

Jim swallows. It's straight to the heart of the matter. "Everything they say that happened," starts Jim, voice worn and brittle. Honesty can be surprisingly taxing. It's hard to come back from punching out your first officer and your helmsman. "It was after Nero and the people needed a hero. Heroes are hard to come by in a tragedy, so they made me captain. You can sleep well kids, Captain Kirk is out there protecting you," embellishes Jim. "It was fine in the beginning. Starfleet was saying yes, I thought if I could just get out there I'd be alright. I could keep all this crazy locked up with medication and excessive counselling. The only one saying wait a minute was Bones."

At first Jim had thought it was just Leonard's way of saying he didn't want to go back out into space. Like he needed to convince Jim it was in his best interest to turn down his commission in order to preserve their relationship. Jim could never throw away Leonard for his career. By the time Jim realized Leonard was trying to protect him, he was too afraid he'd lose everything if he stopped.

"I could hide the episodes in the beginning, brush it off. People were more understanding. It had only been a year since Nero, I was still finding my feet kind of thing. Then they were a little harder to excuse and I'd have Bones cover for me because I didn't want to lose my command." Jim swallows hard, the sting of forming tears threatening to escape causing him to squint. "Then we got a distress call for a Romulan civilian vessel. It should have been easy, just save the crew. I don't know. I just saw them and decided it was a trap. My crew said no they were just in need of rescuing and we should, because we're at peace, Nero didn't change that. I wouldn't listen. We were in danger and I had to protect the crew. Even when the crew refused to follow orders, I just armed the torpedoes myself. The crew tried to stop me, they knew I wasn't in my right mind anymore. In the end it was Bones that took me down. Hypo'd me from behind."

Jim's never actually apologised to Leonard for putting him in that position. He feels bad about it. First for getting Leonard to down play Jim's episodes when he would have rang the alarm right away if it were anyone other than Jim. Leonard probably wouldn't have been so quick to fall for those puppy dog eyes is he knew Jim was lying about the extent of things even to Leonard. If that coercion of their relationship wasn't enough, Jim put Leonard in a situation where he had to act against Jim to protect Jim.

"Luckily the torpedo missed and the crew was able to rescue them without incident. But I was done. There was no way to talk my way out of that one. Everyone was apologetic about it. Said they put me out there too soon, should have made sure I was really ready, should have given me some other ship to command like a medical ship or supply hauler- something that mattered less. They kept it quiet to cover their asses and protect mine. Said I retired, rode off into the sunset like all heroes past their prime do. But a crew of three hundred talk even if they're ordered not to. So I started going by Jim McCoy, no pre assumptions or expectations, just a nobody people have yet to meet. The thing is, I don't think Bones has ever forgiven himself it." He knows Leonard silently beats himself up about the whole thing. It's part of the reason Leonard is so over protective now. Jim's just never been sure how you even begin to apologise for something like that.

"You're hardly a nobody, Jim," says Scotty, putting his hand on Jim's shoulder. Chekov nods in agreement. "No matter what name you use."

It's out there now and Scotty and Chekov didn't run. Jim has to fight back the tears, choking on a laugh when Scotty asks, "Now which one of you two is going to go crawling through the Jefferies tubes on deck thirty?"

"Not it," says Jim, much to Chekov's dismay.

* * *

"Fuck!" escapes Leonard's lips as he's abruptly awoken in the middle of the night. The room's dark, except for the flashing red light that only comes from a red alert. This is bad. The tremble starts in his hand and for a second he can smell that wretched stagnant water from Nero's ship. His hand shoots over to Jim's side of the bed which is already empty. "Fuck," he says again, throwing the sheets off.

"Computer lights," he commands, getting to his feet. The lights come up against the consistent call of the red alert. Leonard doesn't even have time to bask in the relief that it's their quarters that are illuminated and not a dungeon cell before his eyes land on Jim, who's huddled in the corner. Leonard wants to crawl into the corner next to him and ignore the world but he has a station to man.

The last time, they had a red alert in the middle of the night, they were sharing then quarters too.

Leonard hastily puts on his pants and grabs a shirt. He kneels down in front of Jim as he wrestles the wrinkled uniform on. "Jim, I need you to look at me," he orders in a bid to try and get through the demons that are undoubtedly fighting for Jim's attention. They're nipping at Leonard's heels too.

Jim reluctantly lifts his head up but doesn't make eye contact.

Leonard places his hands on Jim's neck, just above his shoulders and presses their foreheads together. "Jim, I have to go to sickbay. Someone may need my help. But I need to know you're going to be okay. This is not the Troubadour and that's not Nero attacking." It's the only thing Leonard does know. There could be a number of reasons for the red alert, the majority of them are not good.

"Yeah," gasps Jim. "You gotta go." Jim almost looks like he believes it.

Leonard pulls his ring off, struggling to get it over his knuckle. He almost never takes it off, so the fact that it's not as loose as it once was usually isn't much of an issue. He takes Jim's hand and pries Jim's clenched fist open, placing the ring in the palm of Jim's hand. Gently he folds Jim's fingers over the ring and kisses the back of Jim's hand before pressing it against Jim's chest right above his heart.

"Keep that safe till I get back."

Jim nods and squeezes his hand tighter.

This is the part that kills Leonard- the fine line between duty and Jim. They talked about it endlessly before Leonard accepted Spock's offer. CMO means not shirking duties, no matter how much Leonard wants to stay and comfort his husband. "I'll comm. you when I find out what's going on," he promises. The ship's not shaking so maybe it's just a precautionary alert. Maybe it's not. Either way he has to go because lives could be on the line.

Leonard fights every instinct he has to stay and forces himself out the door. Jim gets edgy when a red alert is called but being woken up in the middle of the night for one is a double whammy after an already emotional week. Leonard's half way down the corridor when Spock comms him. "Meet the security team outside the shuttle bay. I will be there momentarily," orders the captain.

Leonard has a bad feeling about this. It's going to be a long night.

"What's going on?" asks Leonard as Spock rounds the corner mere moments after he arrives at the shuttle bay.

"We have encountered a ship in distress. The survivors are evacuating to our ship. They may need medical attention," informs Spock.

"Are we concerned about something?" asks Leonard, looking pointedly at the armed detail of security guards.

"It is a private transport ship. The guards are simply a precaution."

Leonard's lips tighten. Private companies are less discerning about who they hire and what they transport. The private sector is more like the Wild West. Without Starfleet protection, private ships opt to hire the dregs of society for security purposes, who tend to not be the friendliest under any circumstances.

The computer beeps, signalling that atmosphere has been restored to the shuttle bay. The security guards go in first, followed by the captain and then Leonard and the medical team. The first of four shuttles opens its door, the crew walking out cautiously.

"I am Captain Spock of the USS Enterprise," greets Spock.

"John Harrison," greets the leader of the privateers, "captain of the Botany Bay. Thank you for your assistance."

"Doctor McCoy will see to your people," says Spock.

Leonard pulls his scanner from his pouch and takes a step forward.

"That won't be necessary," insists Harrison, tight but not unpolite.

"I'll be the judge of that," snaps Leonard. He was awoken in the middle of the night; someone is receiving medical attention whether they like it or not. And he's certainly not going to be taking a medical assessment from a self appointed captain.

"Very well, doctor," concedes Harrison, with a tight smile that suggests he more put out than grateful.

Leonard never breaks eye contact with Harrison as he runs the scanner over the man. There's something intimidating about the man like if Leonard looks away for even a second, he'll get bit. "You're all clear," says Leonard examining the readings. He moves on to the next passenger. Out of twelve crew members, six need to be treated for smoke inhalation and another four require additional scans to pin point exactly what's wrong. Sickbay is going to be busy.

Harrison seems nonplus about his crew needing to head to sickbay. Instead he simply says, "Captain if I may speak with you privately. It is a matter of my cargo."

Leonard doesn't exactly have the warm fuzzies for every member of his crew but he still cares about their well being. Harrison seems almost cold to his crew. Then again Leonard's livelihood doesn't depend on the successful transport of cargo.

Spock acquiesces, the two diverting to Spock's ready room while the rest of the crew of the Botany Bay follow Leonard to sickbay. The ship stands down from red alert.


	19. Chapter 19

"Is this really necessary?" demands Joaquin, glaring at the Enterprise medical staff as though they are ants ruining a picnic.

It causes a little unease among the nurses but Leonard just glares back. "It's necessary if I decide it's necessary. You have some lung damage from smoke inhalation, so if you want to go on breathing, I suggest you sit there and play nice." Leonard can out stubborn the best of them.

"I will be fine," insists Joaquin, his lips curling in displeasure.

"Just let them do their job," lectures Ling from the next biobed over. "You'll have to excuse him, Doctor. It's been awhile since we had to socialize with anyone not on our ship."

"Space isolation is never fun," agrees Leonard. "How long have you been out here?" He runs his scanner over the patient comparing them to the automatic readings recorded by the biobed systems.

"It feels like centuries," she says with a tinge of melancholy.

Leonard knows the feeling. He loads a hypo and injects it in Joaquin's neck before turning his attention fully to Ling. At least she's a little civil. The rest of the Botany Bay crew looks like they'd rather spit on them rather than associate with them. He runs the scanner over Ling. "You have no lung damage," he says with a frown.

"But?" she asks, sensing Leonard's not pleased.

Leonard shakes his head. Most of the readings are perfect- almost too perfect. There's something he can't put his finger on though. The readings are a little off from what he normally sees but he can't place as to why. "I think we have to do some tests," he says. "There's something a little off I'd like to check out and make sure it's not anything serious." He can practically hear Joaquin roll his eyes behind him.

"It's nothing to worry about, Doctor," insists Ling.

"Oh?"

Ling smiles. "We're transporting Habavrioum crystals. They emit a type of radiation that while it has no long term adverse effects it does temporarily alter physiological processes in some species. Some of the shielding on the containers may have failed."

Leonard checks his readings again. It could explain what he's seeing. "We should still do some extra blood work, just in case."

"If you insist." Ling rolls up her sleeve for McCoy to take his samples.

* * *

"Sorry," apologises Leonard as he walks into the briefing room. He's not only the last senior staff member to show up but late as well, having stopped by his quarters on his way from medical to assure Jim that the red alert was precautionary only.

Spock only nods at Leonard's presence. "Commander Roberts, have all the Botany Bay crew been assigned quarters?"

"Yes, I have them all situated in section E nine," confirms the first officer.

"So they're staying on board?" asks Uhura.

"Captain Harrison is transporting vital supplies for the Federation. He has authority to use the Enterprise to finish transporting his goods to Tolmin Six," explains Spock. Having his ship high jacked is what most humans would deem inconvenient. Since everything the Enterprise does is Starfleet business, whether the detour to Tolmin Six is under his orders or orders issued to Harrison it's all the same to Spock but there are pieces of Harrison's story that have gaps.

"Would that cargo be Habavrioum crystals?" asks Leonard.

"It would. Is there a medical concern, Doctor McCoy?" ask Spock.

"Not really. Effects are short term and vary by person. You either feel like a million bucks or like you're coming down with the flu. Either way, symptoms clear up in a couple of days. If the crystals are shielded properly there'll be no issue at all. But one of the crew seems to think the containers aren't all functioning properly."

Spock turns to Scotty. "Commander Scott, can you repair the crates?"

"I can take a look but it would be far easier to implement a force field around the whole cargo bay in case any other crates fail."

"Proceed," Spock orders.

"Why would they need to transport Habavrioum crystals to Tolmin Six? The planet is uninhabited," asks Chekov.

"Apparently Starfleet has recently established a colony there and it needs the crystals to run the outpost," answers Roberts.

"Since when does Starfleet use private contractors to haul vital supplies?" asks Scotty. A federation ship would be much more reliable and faster.

"It is not for us to question Starfleet's choice Mr Scott. I have seen the orders and they are authentic. Mr Sulu, you will set a course to Tolmin Six. The rest of us will try and make our guests feel welcome. That is all," says Spock dismissing his staff. The sooner they complete Harrison's misson, the sooner they can get back to theirs.

* * *

Thankfully the gym is mostly empty. It would be just the three of them if they stuck to Jim's four am schedule but since Jim promised he wouldn't work with Chekov without a chaperon, he's had to resort to more normal hours. Apparently no one else shares his love for late night early morning hours.

"Evening gentlemen," greets Jim as he approaches Chekov and Scotty at the punching bag. Scotty's holding the bag while Chekov warms up. Jim's got to say the kid's form is improving spectacularly.

"You ready?" he asks, tiredly, because doing anything these days, even giving instruction is exhausting.

"Da," says Chekov with a bright smile.

"We're going to work on combinations today," says Jim. The kid has improved in leaps and bounds. Jim remembers what it's like to be that good at things. It won't be long before he's out grown anything Jim can offer. Jim's almost emptied his bag of tricks and experience.

Scotty climbs up on a stack of mats, lying down on them with a tech manual on his PADD. He knows his way around a bar fight; being an engineer doesn't require him to know more than that. If Chekov wants to get thrown around a mat once a week for thrills, that's on the kid; Scotty's just here to supervise that things don't escalate past anyone's control.

The sweat is matting down Chekov's bangs as he punches combinations into Jim's padded hands. He's so focused he doesn't really notice their guests come into the gym until they start arguing in the corner. Chekov glances over at the commotion only to get smacked in the side of the head by Jim.

"Don't take your eyes off your opponent," warns Jim. It's kind of a cheap shot but if your life is on the line the enemy isn't interested in fair and the slightest distraction can mean your life.

"Sorry," apologises Chekov dropping his hands completely. The evacuees might be loud and distracting but watching the amount of weight some of them are currently lifting is impressive. Even Scotty's put down his manual to watch the show.

Jim glances over his shoulder. The guy could probably easily bench press him and Chekov combined despite not looking much bigger than McCoy. It's all impressive to look at but Jim's taken down his fair share of superior muscle in his life to know muscle alone doesn't win the fight.

"Let's put what you learned today into practice," says Jim stepping into the boxing ring. They trade harmless blows in a friendly back and forth, slowly picking up a little speed as they find their rhythm. Jim has to admit, Chekov's really improving. If Jim were still in his glory bar days, he'd take the kid out looking for a good bar fight and not worry about him getting his ass kicked.

"Good job," praises Jim as Chekov works in one of the new combinations he's learned. He doesn't glance over his shoulder at the mocking chuckle that comes from the weight lifting corner but Chekov does. Jim uses the opportunity to reacquaint Chekov with the mat. "I told you not to lose focus."

"Can't even beat a cripple," mutters one of the male evacuees. The others chuckle in agreement.

It makes the hairs on the back of Jim's neck stand up and his fingers curl tightly in his boxing gloves. He'd love nothing more than to march over there and knock a couple of them on their asses but given his reputation on the ship at the moment, he should probably refrain from acting like an impulsive psycho.

Clearly Chekov feels the same way, he looks tense, bitter and nearing an edge. Jim's not sure if the kid feels personally slighted or indignant on Jim's behalf. Either way, it's playing havoc with his concentration and inner calm. He's getting sloppy with his punches and anger is making him reckless.

Time to teach Chekov his next, most valuable, lesson. Jim steps up his game, coming at Chekov harder, faster and unafraid to play a little dirty. Chekov manages to stay with Jim, though he takes more hits than usual; frustration keeping him from thinking and following through on what he should be doing.

Their uninvited friends put down the weights and move closer to the ring to watch. There's cat calls and cheering with every punch thrown, but Jim ignores it all. He's not here for anyone's entertainment. Finally Chekov leaves and opening that's too hard to ignore and Jim goes in for the final hit.

Chekov goes down to the roar of displeasure from the crowd. He doesn't even wait for Jim to offer a hand up, jumping to his feet with a snarl and a pointed fist at the taunting evacuees. Scotty's ducking the ropes and jumping in the ring to try and hold the kid back at the same time Jim's stepping in front of him. Chekov's improved but not enough that he's going to be victorious against this gang of thugs.

"Easy, laddie," cautions Scotty, holding Chekov back. "Ye need to be more forgiving. Everyone's entitled to an opinion."

"But you hear what they're saying?" demands Chekov. He's tired of people putting him down and he's certainly not going to stand for guests aboard the ship talking about his friends like that either.

"We're big enough to take a few hits," reminds Scotty. They don't need an incident involving non crew members and certainly not involving Jim and Chekov in the gym.

"They're not worth it," says Jim, close in Chekov's ear as he works to hold the kid back.

"Absolutely pathetic. A child and a cripple too afraid to fight. Anytime you want to learn how to fight like a real man, kid, come find me," laughs Otto getting into the ring and cracking his knuckles.

Jim's heard it all before. He spent many late nights in bars getting drunk and using punches to prove he was still as capable as ever after being court-martialled. It never really changed anyone's minds, just gave him bruised and scrapped knuckles. However, one can't argue with the stopping power of a good fist to the face and Jim's not going to stand idly by and let some assholes discourage Chekov. They don't know how far the kid has come to have any right to an opinion of his abilities.

He waits until Otto steps just within arm's reach before turning on his heel and delivering a solid right hook. Otto's head snaps to the side leaving him dazed for only a second. He slowly turns back to face Jim with a predatory smile. Jim can feel his mistake in his gut before Otto's large fist ever connects with him.

It's like getting hit by a shuttle. Jim loses a couple of seconds because the next thing he sees is a frantic Chekov leaning over him, his mouth moving at warp speed. Jim can't hear him over the ringing in his ears but he recognizes the words "Are you alright?" being mouthed at him. Over Chekov's shoulder Jim can see Scotty standing toe to toe with Otto, yelling at one another.

"I'm fine," he grumbles around a mouthful of blood. "It's fine. Scotty, leave it." He doesn't need to add another incident to his lengthy list of them so far. He certainly doesn't need to explain any broken bones to Leonard.

Scotty looks over at Jim with a look that asks if he's sure? Jim just nods and let's Chekov pull him to his feet. Clearly Jim miscalculated his opponent; the only victim of surprise being him. "Let's just call it for today," he says. "I'll buy both a drink."

Scotty and Chekov both look equal parts pissed and concerned. Concern wins out because they agree to leave the gym without further incident. Scotty throws Jim's arm over his shoulder to help him walk. His balance is still a little off from that hit. "You alright, Jim?" asks Scotty concerned they might have to hit sickbay first.

"It was like hitting a brick wall," laments Jim. "Who the hell are these guys?"

* * *

After getting a drink, the trio move to the mess hall to have dinner with Uhura and Sulu. Jim would go back to his quarters and make something for Leonard but the doctor's tied up in sickbay and it doesn't sound like Jim's going to see his husband before bed.

"What, did you and Chekov have a prize fight?" asks Uhura, getting a good look at Jim's impressive black eye. She's never really understood the male need to use fists instead of words or why it would be considered fun.

Sulu looks at Chekov like maybe he doesn't know that sweet mild mannered kid that sits beside him at the helm as well as he thought.

"I walked into a door," mutters Jim, taking a seat at the table and setting his tray down.

Uhura looks like she's not buying Jim's bullshit. Jim just shrugs.

"Yeah, a door named Otto of the Botany Bay," says Scotty, still sounding a little sore over the matter.

"Harrison's crew picked a fight with you?" asks Sulu in disbelief.

"I had it coming," laments Jim. He does not need a big deal made of this; it invites too many questions and attention.

"Now that I believe," says Uhura.

"Thanks," replies Jim, acting wounded.

Uhura just rolls her shoulders, like what are you going to do. It's not her fault Jim has a pattern or that she's figured it out.

"Having a bad day?" asks Jim with an overly fake smile.

Uhura sighs. It's been a long tiring day. "We're having communication relay issues all day. Haven't been able to send or receive communications." It's not the end of the world, there's nothing extremely pressing at the moment to send back to Starfleet but it's frustrating. There's a certain sense of foreboding loneliness that happens when the comm. lines are dead. It's like they really are truly alone out here.

"When did this start?" asks Jim.

"Some time last night," answers Scotty. He's checked the equipment three times and come up empty. Tomorrow he's going to start taking things down to the bolts to find the problem; this ship doesn't get to keep secrets from him.

"You've had a busy night Scotty," says Sulu. They all had their sleep interrupted by their guests, but at least Sulu got to go back to bed for a few hours.

"Aye, don't get me started," spits Scotty. "Did you know I had to move sixty crates off their shuttles and move them to the cargo bay," he lectures, pointing his fork at Sulu, like the helmsman orchestrated the whole ordeal. " _Sixty_!"

Sulu raises his hands in surrender. "And then," continues Scotty with flourish, "the doctor, not the crew or the Captain of the bleedin' ship we had to rescue informs us there might be radiation to consider. The least they could have done is mention that before I moved those crates to that cargo bay."

"Radiation?" asks Jim.

Scotty waves off Jim's look of concern. "McCoy already said it was harmless."

Jim listens to the rest of Scotty's complaints in silence but something just doesn't feel right.

* * *

"May I have a word, Doctor?" asks Harrison looming in the door to McCoy's office like a vampire lurking in the shadows before the kill.

"Sure," snaps McCoy. He's been dealing with Harrison's ill-mannered brood all day, what's one more. Since Harrison's already standing in his office, Leonard suspects he's not going to take no for an answer anyway. "Why don't you sit down," he offers.

Harrison stays on his feet, towering over Leonard in an intimidation tactic Leonard's seen before in every delegate and commander that thinks they know more about life and death than McCoy. "Is it really necessary to monopolize all of my crew's time," Harrison asks.

Something about Harrison's voice that sends chills down Leonard's spine. The man can evoke sheer terror while conveying righteous furry without even raising his voice or moving a muscle. There's something predatory in that cold level and calculating voice. "I wouldn't consider ensuring the health of a patient monopolizing their time," says Leonard.

"You deemed them all healthy. Further tests are unnecessary," states Harrison. And it's almost like talking to Spock but with less feelings if that's possible.

Leonard's come across men who like to throw their weight around before. He never flinched then and he doesn't intend to now. "I'm currently the Chief Medical Officer on board this ship and I'll decide what tests are necessary and which are not unless you've recently been assigned the job of surgeon general of Starfleet command."

Harrison doesn't breathe a word but his chilly stare gets even colder like he can't believe an ant like Leonard would dream of challenging his authority.

"I thought not. Until such time, it is my duty to ensure that your crew as well as mine stay in healthy condition. A sentiment any captain should support." If they weren't civilized men, Leonard's sure Harrison would over his desk and strangling the life out him right now.

Instead Harrison's eyes narrow on the framed display of historic medical tools Leonard keeps in his office. The scalpels and bone saws have fallen out of use over the centuries, each having their time in the sun as the latest in medical advancement, only to be labelled instruments of barbarianism with the next advancement. Leonard keeps them around to remind him that it's the hand not the tool that truly heals.

"What an odd thing for a healer to have, instruments of death," poses Harrison, catching his reflection in the gleam of the sharp edges of the knives.

"Instruments of healing," corrects Leonard.

Harrison counters, "In the right hands they offer quick or slow death."

Leonard's not interested in finding common ground with the man. It's like a Rorschach test- they clearly come from two different places. "The right hands used them to save lives. It's a reminder that the desire to heal goes back centuries."

"The desire to kill and rule goes back even further," says Harrison with a vindictive smile.

Leonard's trying really hard not to feel like the rabbit staring down the wolf. "The ability maybe," he concedes, "but not the desire." His whole field is populated with people that value life above anything else. Starfleet has some pretty high opinions about helping species and people rather than conquering the galaxy. It makes Leonard wonder how someone like Harrison is even involved with Starfleet.

"Men always desire to rule," claims Harrison moving around Leonard's desk to get a better look at the scalpels. "It's what separates us from the animals."

"Oh?" Leonard slides his chair back to maintain his distance. "I thought the ability to use tools is what separated us from the animals."

Harrison smiles and it's all teeth. Leonard's stomach feels like it's being sucked down a drain. "Our skill at contouring is what raised us above the animals and it shall raise us above our enemies now."

"Starfleet prefers peace last time I checked," chokes Leonard. He feels cornered and trapped like the latest victim in one of those horror vids Jim used to make him watch while he was trying to study for exams.

"Mistakes like that cost empires," says Harrison, finally stepping back to his side of the desk. "Good day doctor," he says curtly, vanishing out the door as eerily as he entered.

Leonard can't help like feel he just stared down a grizzly and escaped with his life.

* * *

"You don't have to come," says Leonard, giving Jim an easy out. He's trying real hard to bit his tongue about the black eye. While he backs Jim one hundred percent, he knows Jim isn't exactly a saint and since neither Chekov nor Scotty called Leonard in a panic about what happened, Leonard suspects Jim is just as guilty the Botany Bay crewman. The last thing they need tonight is more tension.

Truthfully, Leonard doesn't want to go but he'll save his start a mutiny card for something more important than ducking a formal dinner in honour of someone he's deemed an ass. Like most of the crew, Leonard isn't all that impressed with their 'honoured' guests. He thought he was cantankerous, but the Botany Bay crew raises standoffish and arrogant to a whole new level.

"It'll be fine," says Jim, pulling on his shirt. "Maybe they're better conversationalists around a dinner table than in the gym." He kind of doubts it, but a formal dinner might make for more polite conversation. At least decorum will dictate they won't end in a brawl over asking questions.

"I doubt it. They're not exactly the sharing type," huffs Leonard. For the most part they keep to themselves as they move about the ship. Any answers given in medical have been clipped and straight to the point.

Jim can see the lines of tension running through Leonard. "Are you still worrying over those test results?"

Leonard can't put his finger on what's bothering him. He's running out of excuses to try and perform more tests on a crew that has some of the healthiest readings he's ever seen but something won't let him sign off on the matter. "Something's just not sitting right," he sighs. Maybe he just wants to stick it to Harrison after their meeting or maybe he literally wants keep sticking Otto with hypos after the gym incident. Either way, there's something wrong.

"You'll figure it out," assures Jim. Leonard is gifted with the tenacity to figure everything out.

"There's probably nothing to figure out," concedes Leonard. "Everything odd can be explained by exposure to Habavrioum crystals." Sometimes it is the simplest answer. Perhaps Leonard is the real issue here.

"Is whatever that's bothering you going to kill them?" asks Jim, running his hand through Leonard's hair and down his jaw.

"No. They'll out live us all with those readings."

Jim wraps his arms around Leonard's waist, pulling him close. "Then don't worry about it," he whispers lovingly. "A couple more weeks and they'll be off the ship and someone else's medical problem or not." He'll be glad to be rid of them and get back to the status quo. It feels like a dark could has been looming over the ship since the rescue.

"It's my job to worry about it." Whether he likes them or not, if there's something potentially wrong he needs to do everything in his power to correct it.

"Not tonight. Tonight your job is to feign interest in this dinner." Jim's been to and hosted his fair share of dinners for guests. It's the highlight of no one's social calendar and an exercise in restraint and fake sentiments.

Leonard lets out a long sigh. It's going to be a long night.


	20. Chapter 20

Leonard’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed that it’s just Harrison that joins them for dinner. The fewer Botany Bay crew members the less chance a fist fight might break out, but talking with just Harrison has its own challenges. It’s like pleading your case to a shark- no you wouldn’t make a good meal even with bar-b-q sauce. All of the Botany crew seems to have attended the same finishing school. They’re arrogant and uncouth and not winning over the Enterprise crew. Leonard’s not the only one who’s noticed; he can see it in the sighs of relief and ease of tension in the senior staff as they realize they won’t be experiencing the full force of the Botany Bay circus tonight.

“Your friends won’t be joining us?” asks Roberts after Harrison is seated and the meal is served.

“They have other things to do tonight,” says Harrison, like the senior staff should consider themselves lucky he made time in his busy schedule for them. A smile never cracks his stone cold face.

Leonard can’t imagine what could possibly be so important they can’t come to dinner. It’s not like they have a ship to run. Maybe Harrison has the same expectations for the direction of the evening should his people join them as Leonard has.

Jim fidgets beside Leonard, his knee bobbing up and down while his fingers drum along the stem of his fork. “Like what?” asks Jim in that same voice Joanna used to use when demanding to know why she has to eat her vegetables.

Harrison’s eyes narrow in on Jim like he discovered the one knock off in a series of originals. “They’re taking advantage of everything the Enterprise has to offer.” Jim doesn’t flinch; he just glares back. “It’s been awhile since we’ve been around such advancement.”

“Aye, she’s top of the line, refitted just last year. Ye won’t see anything newer until next year and even then it’s hard to compete with this fine lady,” beams Scotty like a proud parent.

“It must be hard being out here for long periods with outdated resources,” sympathises Roberts. He grew up on freighters and private ships whose resources and information were limited to what they could manage to update at the next space station. It’s one of the perks to working for Starfleet, all the latest toys, media and information are days away not months or years.

“We’re very resourceful,” assures Harrison. There’s an evil predatory glint in his eye that’s matched only by the violence in his smile.

Perhaps it’s his tone or maybe his stone cold demeanour, but the answer sends chills down Leonard’s spine. For most people he’d assume it was a declaration of intelligence but when Harrison says it, he can’t help but think of the Donnor party’s resourcefulness.

“Why the private sector?” asks Roberts, either oblivious to the chilliness from their guest or feeling the need to keep awkward silence at bay.

“We grew tired of taking orders by men who are too afraid to do what must be done,” says Harrison and it’s the most alive and engaged he’s looked all night. They’ve clearly stumbled upon his vein of interest.

“And what must be done?” inquires Spock, folding his hands under his chin in contemplation.

“Those that threaten you must be subjugated or defeated. A universe full of peace keepers are nothing more than lambs to the slaughter should a wolf find their way into the fields.”

Leonard can’t help but feel that Harrison fancies himself the wolf in this scenario. No wonder he works in the private sector of shipping with all the other wannabe space pirates. Starfleet probably wouldn’t have him.

The sentiment is the complete opposite of what Sulu stands for, what anyone on this ship stands for. He must of have missed something, because the general consensus of the Federation is towards peace. He asks, “You think Starfleet should be militarized?”

Harrison leans forward. “War is necessary.”

“Peace is more beneficial,” counters Spock. Many species have engaged in violent wars throughout history, even his own people gave into their violent temptations early on. Eventually reason and compassion team up with logic and more peaceful methods are implemented to solve issues, though there are still those that believe force is necessary. Clearly their guest is one of those people.

“The weak must be weeded out. One cannot do that if they coddle everyone. The species will wither and die if those strong enough do not take power.”

“Sounds like genetic purification to me. That limited thinking went out centuries ago,” says Leonard. And thank god. This evening is leaving a sour taste in his mouth. It’s out of duty to his crewmates that he doesn’t walk away.

“Nature is built on the idea that the strong will survive. Truly gifted men have chosen to speed up that process by either circumstance or science.”

Leonard wants to roll his eyes but he can’t very well ask Jim to be on his best behaviour if he isn’t going to be on his. “How do you define strong?” Leonard can think of a million different definitions and none of them are defined by the ability to take another’s life.

“Take you husband for example,” says Harrison, turning his focus back on Jim and gesturing toward his cane propped against the wall behind him, “would it not have been kinder to put him out of his misery?”

“It’s an injury,” protests Leonard, slamming his fist on the table and looking to Spock to put Harrison in his place or better yet, throw him out on his ass. “One sustained in the line of duty. It’s not the sum of his life.”

Harrison ignores Leonard’s protest. “But it is the deciding factor in his life. Tell me Jim McCoy, is this kinder? Left to languish in a living death?” His words drip with blood and a matter-of-factness that drives them straight into the soul. He’s not saying it to cut or to pick on Jim for the sake of breaking him, but because he truly believes Jim would have been better off perishing than living life with such a disadvantage.

It’s a question Jim’s asked himself many times over. He’s never come to a satisfactory conclusion, the scales always balancing even. It’s a shitty hand that he’s been dealt to play, one he often doesn’t want to, but he’ll be damned if someone like Harrison should be allowed take those cards away. He’s grateful for everyday he gets to spend with Leonard, yet he can’t pretend it doesn’t come at a great cost. Jim’s not sure he’s strong enough to say he wouldn’t change his run in with Nero which lead to his marriage to Leonard, if he had the chance. Even if he had a satisfactory answer, he wouldn’t give it to Harrison. Jim places his hand over top of Leonard’s, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over Leonard’s wrist. “I don’t know, things are pretty good.”

“Are they?” questions Harrison like he can smell the lie.

Jim sits up a little straighter, refusing to show any weakness in front of this apex predator. Harrison has no idea where Jim’s come from or what he’s over come. Even if it’s not where Jim himself had ever hoped to be, he won’t let some asshole diminish that, especially in front of Leonard who’s fought just as hard, if not harder, to get Jim to this place.

“Do anything meaningful or great for Starfleet besides keeping the good Doctor’s bed warm?”

“You’re out of line,” growls Leonard. The tension is high at the table, growing thicker by the second. An infinite number of conversational topics and Harrison’s chosen Jim; it’s a line Leonard’s not comfortable crossing.

Jim just squeezes Leonard’s hand. He’s the emotional roller coaster; he doesn’t need Leonard to get the reputation as the messy explosive one. “I find being written off and underestimated often works to my advantage.” He’s been underestimated his whole life, it’s nothing new, even if the assumptions have changed over the years.

Harrison sits up, slightly more intrigued. He’s found a combatant with a little spine among the Federation fodder. “You think that’s enough to make a difference?”

Jim shrugs. He’s not going to let some dick like Harrison tell him what he can and cannot do, even if the truth is, he is unable to do all the things he wants. “You only need one match to make an explosion.”

Harrison sizes Jim up, eyes roaming every inch, dissecting and cataloguing every flaw and attribute Jim has to offer. “You truly believe inferior specimens have that spark that humanity needs to drive it forward?”

“You’ll never know until they have their moment.” It’s an argument that can go on all night, neither side in the mood to concede to the other’s point of view. Jim’s met people like this before. Harrison isn’t interested in Jim’s or the crew’s view of violence or genetic superiority, rather he’s aiming to keep them on their toes, to rattle them. Jim can play Harrison’s game too. “What exactly did happen to your ship?”

“Warp core damage,” replies Harrison, calm and cool, despite the rising irritation of the crew. There’s a flash of something dark in his eyes.. “Like all broken things that are no longer able to perform their primary use, the ship has been discarded.”

“What’s so important in the crates?” There’s steel in Jim’s voice; he won’t be sidetracked from finding out what he wants to know.

“Habavrioum crystals.”

“Surely your crew of superior specimens’ lives are more important than risking them to remove crates of Habavrioum crystals when the warp core is damaged or is there something else in those crates, something you’d rather hide?”

The rest of the crew stares in silence as Harrison and Jim trade clipped remarks back and forth, both entangled in their own verbal tennis match.

“And just what would we be hiding in those crates? Your ship’s sensors would detect anything of importance to the black-market,” demands Harrison.

Jim’s grin grows wider. “Interesting you bring up the black-market. I never said you were smuggling anything illegal.”

“The implication of smuggling is that it is illegal, otherwise there would be no need to hide.”

“So you are hiding something?”

“We are transporting Habavrioum crystals at the request of the Federation to a newly colonized planet. The only one implying anything is you Mr McCoy. Which is an interesting tactic by your captain, or should I say the captain as you are not a member of Starfleet. The captain allows you to do his dirty work for him so he doesn’t appear to be interrogating his guest.” Harrison’s eyes drift over to Spock.

“Since this is not an interrogation, I suggest we speak of other matters,” states Spock. Uhura gives him a small smile of support. The rest of the meal is quieter, with Scotty mostly talking about engines and Chekov talking about space anomalies that were along the Botony Bay’s flight path.

%%%%%

Leonard has to practically be dragged back to their quarters, still toying with the idea of punching Harrison in his smug mouth and asking how superiority feels with a broken jaw.

“You can’t let guys like that get to you, Bones,” says Jim pulling him towards the bedroom. Leonard’s tense and stiff in Jim’s hands and there’s simmering fury in the corner of Leonard’s eyes. Jim pities the poor souls that are due for physicals tomorrow.

“I don’t know how you don’t. You’re usually the hot tempered one.” He sits on the edge of the bed but doesn’t move to take off his uniform or his boots. There isn’t going to be much sleep in his future tonight, his body a lightening rod of frustration.

Jim snorts and flops down on the bed beside Leonard. Leonard’s the one that’s quick to anger and far more emotional than Jim- Jim’s just more physical in showing it. Leonard had the reputation of being a cranky curmudgeon long before Jim was branded as emotionally unstable.

“It’s just…” starts Leonard.

“It doesn’t matter,” sighs Jim. It’s bad enough Harrison ruined dinner with his delightful banter but know he’s ruining what could be a perfectly good night.

“But it does,” insists Leonard.

Jim wiggles around until he’s sitting behind Leonard, wrapping his arms around his husband and gently kissing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t matter,” he says fondly. It’s kind of hot when Leonard gets all white knight on him.

“Why aren’t you more upset?” asks Leonard, getting up to pace. Everything Harrison had to say was bullshit but it is bullshit some people believe either wholeheartedly or subconsciously.

Jim hangs his head in frustration. Clearly Leonard isn’t going to let this go, no matter how enticing Jim makes moving past it. He can’t have Leonard lying awake all night fretting. “There’s always going to be people like Harrison, some who believe it and some who say it just to get a rise out of me,” says Jim. “And some days where maybe they’re right,” he adds quieter.

Leonard halts in his pacing and stares at Jim. He thought they were long past this. “You think this world would be better off if you hadn’t made it off of that ship?” he asks, managing to look a little disappointed and a little sad.

“Not all the time,” he confesses. At first, it was his primary thought but as the years have gone by and he’s managed to build something with meaningful with Leonard, it only crosses his mind from time to time- times like when Leonard’s lying in sickbay at death’s door.

Leonard throws his hands in the air. “Not all the time?” One second is too much for him. Jim’s perfect in any shape or form.

“There are times… Like when I lost the Michigan or when you were injured on that planet. But the rest of the time I have you, and Joanna, and it’s all worth it, no matter the circumstances. Nero took a part of me but he didn’t take the best parts. I just need to be good enough for you. I am good enough for you?” asks Jim with a slight pout, the one that turns Leonard into pliable mush.

“More than I could ever dream,” insists Leonard, holding Jim tightly as Jim’s hands work to relieve Leonard of the burden of pants.

Jim waits until Leonard is fast asleep to pull all the schematics and sensor readings the Enterprise was able to take of Harrison’s ship and the Botony Bay crew’s medical records. He has a mystery to solve.

%%%%%%

_Federation News Bulletin:_

_Dedication ceremony for the crew of the USS Troubadour takes place today. It is expected that four of the five survivors will be in attendance. The fifth still remains in critical condition._

%%%%%

The tension is high mixed with a healthy dose of sorrow, resentment and desperation to make the colourful Norman Rockwell of their lives. Jim’s growing even more bitter the further from the hospital they get. He hasn’t spoken to Leonard at all since renting transport in Sioux City after missing their scheduled public shuttle.

It was a panic attack at its finest. They’d just step onto the platform, Jim trailing a few steps behind Leonard like a reluctant teen being forced to go on a family vacation when they’d rather stay at home and hang with their friends, when Jim starts mumbling to himself. Leonard, short on patience and running late after fighting to even get Jim dressed this morning so they could leave the hospital, ignores it at first. He isn’t interested in a public rehash of all their dirty laundry or Jim’s out right protest to be allowed to continue his state tour of self destruction.

What finally gets his attention is Jim yanking hard on his sleeve forcing Leonard to stop his hurried pace to try and catch the shuttle. “What?” he snaps.

“We can’t get on that shuttle,” whispers Jim.

Leonard tilts his head to the sky and asks for divine strength. He just wants to get out of here and onto familiar ground or at least to a place where he knows Jim will be safe while he works to erase the image of Jim with his arm bandaged up in a botched suicide attempt out of his brain with the best liquor credits can buy. “We’re getting on the shuttle, Jim, it’s the last one to San Francisco today. We’re not staying here another night.”

“Ayel just got on that shuttle, we can’t get on,” insists Jim, pulling back on Leonard’s arm.

Leonard looks, scanning the crowd boarding the shuttle. He knows the boogeyman’s not lurking there but his gut still unclenches when he doesn’t catch a glimpse of the devil’s right hand. “Ayel’s not here,” insist Leonard, stepping forward.

Jim just pulls back harder. “He’s here,” Jim hisses through clenched teeth as he puts everything he has into holding Leonard back.

“Ayel’s dead Jim. He can’t be on the shuttle, he can’t be in the hotel room. He can’t be anywhere.” Leonard rips his arm free, hefting his bag over his shoulder and stepping forward.

Jim plants his feet. “If we get on that shuttle we’re going to die,” he screams and that gets people’s attention.

Leonard hangs his head. He’s tired, he’s brittle and he just needs Jim to cooperate for one more hour. Everyone is looking now, the platform becoming noisier as people start to question if Jim knows something they don’t. “Keep your voice down,” warns Leonard.

“Bones!” yells Jim.

And it’s too late, security is already approaching them to see what’s going on. “Is there a problem gentlemen?” asks one of the officers.

“No,” insists Leonard, trying to grab Jim’s arm to lead him to the shuttle.

“Listen to me,” Jim persists, “there is a Romulan on that shuttle and he’s going to kill all those people on there. There’s desperation clouding his icy blue eyes.

One of the officers looks back at the shuttle with concern. The other asks, “Romulan?” with disbelief.

“There’s no Romulan, sir,” assures Leonard. People are starting to panic around them. Romulan has become somewhat of a dirty word since Nero engaged in genocide. “He suffers from PSTD,” informs Leonard, aiming to get to the heart of the matter in a way people might understand without having to go into detail on the nuances of Jim’s condition or his story. 

It doesn’t really work, the damage is done. The normally content passengers are panicking to the point where security has to do an investigation to disprove Jim’s claim and settle everyone’s nerves. It works for everyone except Jim who’s holding firm to his belief that Ayel’s come for his revenge. In the end Jim and Leonard watch the shuttle depart, security believing that public safety would be better served if they found an alternative way home.

And now Leonard’s trapped in a car with a moody and sullen Jim for the next _six_ hours.

“Are we there yet?” demands Jim, hostility rolling off of him like Leonard’s intentionally taking the long way and there’s a surprise execution for Jim at their destination. He readjusts in the passenger seat again. Sitting for this long isn’t doing his leg any favours. The constant itching of his stitches isn’t helping any either.

“If we were able to get on a shuttle, we would have been there hours ago,” snaps Leonard. He’s tired and just as frustrated and unfortunately Jim’s making himself an enticing and unrelenting target.

Jim snaps his head around to glare at Leonard for the first time since their impromptu road trip began. “Nobody asked you to come!” he seethes. He can mange on his own just fine.

“The emergency room doctor asked me to come,” counters Leonard. “Imagine getting that call.”

“Well you came, you saw the invalid. Now you can go fly back out there and live your life.”

Leonard grips the edge of the control consol tightly; his jaw aches from clenching his teeth. “Jim, you’re my husband, I care about you. This isn’t some feel good wellness check.” He realizes his mistake the second the word slips from his lips. Jim isn’t his husband and saying it out loud like he is, feels like a bullet to the chest. He wishes he could let go as easily as Jim can.

Jim crosses his arms and slouches further in his seat. “We’re divorced, that means you don’t need to come any more. I set you free of your obligation.” It was a carefully crafted plan and Leonard’s ruining it by being the caring bastard he always is.

“You’re never an obligation, Jim and I’ll always drop everything and come. I love you.” A piece of paper won’t change that.

It should make Jim all warm and tingly inside to hear that Leonard loves him despite everything but it just feels like another weight around his ankles. Leonard was free and regaining everything Jim had deprived him of and because Jim’s too stupid to do the job properly or at the very least update his emergency contact, he’s sucked Leonard right back into the fray.

“You’re really stupid when it comes to people, you know that?” grumbles Jim. Jim doesn’t know why he’s picking a fight. He could at least be civil while they’re stuck in a confined space together; he doesn’t want to cause Leonard heart ache. He feels kind of bad he’s been deliberately pushing every single one of Leonard’s buttons for so long but it’s become a habit as well as a necessity. And it’s the only thing he can think of to get Leonard to put on his own damn life vest and save himself. “You love the idea of me. I mean it’s a great trophy to get to say you had Captain Kirk.”

Leonard wants to bang his head against the view screen. Why does every moment with Jim have to be a fight? Is he that unhappy with Leonard? “It’s my life, Jim, I’ll do with it and spend it with who I like.”

“Then you should do that. That was the whole point of giving you a divorce.”

“I didn’t ask for one!”

“You should have. There’s nothing here for you. You can do so much more than babysit. You have offers to serve anywhere and you just drop every good opportunity to come and save my broken ass.”

Leonard’s getting real tired of Jim being a self-sacrificing idiot. “Get this through your idiotic head. I am a grown assed man capable of making my own decisions. I didn’t say yes so I could be Jim Kirk’s arm candy or claim I fucked the infamous Captain Kirk. Trust me, there are plenty of people who can boast that.”

It’s a fair point. Jim has a long list of bed companions. None of which have even breathed his name since he lost everything. But Leonard, he said yes when everything was hopeless. It makes Leonard special- worth saving from the Kirk destruction tour that seems to consume and burn up everyone but Jim.

“I said yes because the thought of not having you in my life is asinine,” continues Leonard, fully embracing his rant. “When you admitted to Nero that you sent that message so he would leave me alone, I died that day. Then I got that message that you...” Leonard can’t even bring himself to utter the words; they’re just too horrible. “I died all over again. God help me, I want to be married to you, James T Kirk.”

“That’s not going to happen,” says Jim, firmly but without malice. Leonard’s right, he chose to hang around and there isn’t much Jim can do about it but he certainly isn’t going to make it enticing or reward Leonard’s dumb choices.

“You took that choice away from me too,” grumbles Leonard bitterly. If Jim’s so concerned about what’s good for Leonard, then he should let him choose if he wants to walk away not shove him out the nearest airlock.

Jim turns so he facing the window again. “Sometimes we don’t know what’s good for us.”

Something in Leonard snaps. He can’t handle the hypocrisy any more. Out of both of them there’s only one who’s shown questionable judgement. Leonard lets out a little scream while holding his hands up in a strangling gesture. God he wants to wring Jim’s neck until sense returns to the kid.

If he spends one more second in the car he might actually strangle Jim. He gets the car to pull over and gets out, kicking the dirt and screaming in frustration as he staggers towards the shore of lake they’re driving past. He screams until his voice goes horse and his foot aches from taking its frustration out on the foliage and rocks. Collapsing boneless to his knees at the water’s edge, he just sits there.

Jim sits in the car wide eyed and silent. He’s really managed to hit a nerve and he kind of feels bad for it. Most people just apologise for not being able to handle Jim’s crap, pack their bags and leave quietly- his mother and brother both left that way. Leonard fights to stay long after Jim’s made it impossible. Jim’s never been in a situation where he can’t shake someone free. He’s been fighting to free Leonard for so long, he hadn’t really been paying attention to the toll it was taking on the most important person in this galaxy.

The sun starts to set before Jim slowly gets out of the car. He’s given Leonard time and space to cool off a little but they can’t stay like this forever- both in this physical place and this emotional space. Slowly he walks over and casually stands next to Leonard, his hands tucked into the pockets of his now oversized hoodie. “You know, only one of us can be on the verge of a mental breakdown at a time and I’ve got a medical status that states that it’s me. Like all the time,” says Jim all nonchalant. Jim wouldn’t even know where to begin to apologise if he felt like he should. He stands by his decisions- Leonard would be better off without Jim tied around his neck. But if Leonard insists on going down in flames with Jim, he’s kind of glad for the company.

Leonard whispers, “They’d never find the body.” Jim’s so good at pivoting; Leonard constantly has whiplash. He wishes he could do a one-eighty with his emotions the way Jim can. He’s never met someone he so simultaneously wants to smoother with a pillow and die a thousand deaths for. They’re volatile, bringing out the best and worst in each other but Leonard knows he’ll never know real joy in his life again if he walks away. Jim is his everything. “You drive a man to drink you know that?”

Jim mulls the statement over in his head. “It’s been mentioned before.”

%%%%%%

Jim waits around the corner of the corridor until the members of the Botany crew leave the cargo bay. They always head to the mess hall from the cargo bay around twenty-two hundred. They take turns hanging out in the cargo bay changing groups every five hours. Jim knows, he’s been keeping pretty close tabs on their comings and goings.

He recognizes two of them from the gym and one from sickbay when he went to take Leonard to lunch but was too busy with running tests to join Jim. He can’t say he’s seen the fourth man with Otto, Joaquin and Ling though. Jim thought he had them all identified and logged like he’s some sort of conservation officer tagging animals and watching their migration patterns. He’s not sure how he managed to miss one again. Another previously unseen crewman was with this trio leaving the cargo bay a couple nights ago.

Once they’re gone, he makes his way into the cargo bay via Jeffries tube; he doesn’t need the computer to log his entry. As predicted the cargo bay is empty of life and will be for the next forty minutes when the quartet returns.

Harrison and his crew are definitely hiding something. Jim hasn’t quite figured out if it’s even something the crew has to be concerned about. Jim’s been subtly watching their movements for days and they keep coming back to the cargo bay of all places, when there’s nothing worth doing in here and they have actual quarters and the Enterprise’s recreational centers to hang out in. And Harrison wasn’t very keen on the subject at tonight.

Jim frowns as the container beeps denying his access. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters, prying off the casing around the key pad to expose the circuits underneath. He’s already broken into the cargo bay, what’s a little vandalism thrown in if it means discovering what Harrison is hiding. He synchs his PADD to the control panel and begins furiously typing in codes on both devices until finally the container clicks open in surrender.

He hesitates for a moment. This is a line, a big thick line that if he crosses, he might not be able to come back over. Protocol says he should take his concerns to the Captain. Spock didn’t seem all that interested in pursuing Harrison’s agenda at dinner. At the very least he should take his hunch to Leonard, who intern would have to take it up with Spock. Does he really want to drag Leonard into what could be nothing?

The crew’s in agreement- they don’t like their guests, but no one’s raised any concerns about Botany crew doing anything untold. In fact, no one seems to think very much about them other than avoiding interactions. Maybe Jim just has too much time on his hands and he’s seeing ghosts or Harrison really got under his skin to the point where Jim’s desperate to find anything against the man.

He could walk away. He should walk away. He hasn’t really violated any big rules yet. He’s not Starfleet, ultimately whatever Harrison may or may not be hiding isn’t his problem, assuming there is one. If Jim could trust his instincts he’d be the captain, not a passenger. Could this be the Michigan all over again? Jim’s not sure he can put Leonard through that once more.

There’s a flicker of something deep in his bones that wants to walk away. All he has to do is close the lock, crawl back out of the cargo bay and slip back into bed with Leonard. The ship will arrive at its destination and Harrison and his people will depart. It’s what any normal, sane person would do.

Jim doesn’t move.

He stays crouched in front of the container. It’s like looking behind the curtain in oz, no matter what’s in the container- Jim can’t go back to ignorance. Either he opens it and it’s exactly what Harrison claims, in which case Jim can no longer deny just how faulty his touch with reality is, or it’s not but also not worth making a fuss over. In which case, no one will be able to deny that Jim violated so many standing orders and will irreparably damage any progress he’s made with the crew. Or worse, it’s something dangerous and not looking will put everyone he cares about in danger.

Jim opens the crate.

A cloud of cold air spills out obscuring Jim’s vision for a moment. He’s not prepared for what’s staring back at him when the cloud dissipates. A strangled cry escapes Jim’s lips as he falls flat on his ass as he tries to back away. He stares at the space directly above the crate in anticipation but nothing appears.

Pulse pounding in his ears, he crawls back towards the crate and takes a good look at the man inside. The man is frozen and if Jim can read the ancient tech, he’s still alive. Of all the things he thought Harrison could be hiding, this didn’t make the list.

Something clangs at the other end of the cargo bay. “Shit,” says Jim. The Botany crew has returned early. He doubts they’re just going to let him leave with a secret like this. Carefully, he closes the lid, wincing as it makes soft click. The four returning crew don’t seem to notice, still wrapped up in their conversation that Jim can’t quite make out.

He stealthily creeps around the stacked crates and cargo containers, trying to keep out of sight as he makes his way back to the Jefferies tube. He’s almost there when he bobbles slightly, bumping into one of the containers and knocking some carelessly left tool crashing to the ground. “Shit!”

“We have a mouse,” says Otto, their conversation coming to an abrupt halt. His head snaps towards the corner of the cargo bay, ears peaked for any further sounds.

Jim stays as still as possible, praying to go unnoticed.

“Spread out, find whoever it is,” orders Joaquin. The four of them begin moving amongst the crates, searching for the intruder.

“Here little mouse,” calls Otto, in a voice that promises nothing but pain if Jim’s found.

Screw it, Jim thinks as he runs the last three meters to the Jefferies tube entrance and dives in. He can hear them moving towards the entrance to give chase now that they’ve seen him but they don’t know this ship like Jim does. It’s not hard to lose them in the twists and turns of the tube system. He comes popping out not far from the Captain’s quarters.

Jim makes his way there, pounding on the door and ringing the bell with reckless abandon until a slightly irritated Spock arrives to open it. “We have a problem,” blurts Jim, pushing his way inside.


	21. Chapter 21

Jim feels kind of vindicated standing there in the cargo bay. Spock and a security detail are standing between him and Harrison and Jim's not sure if they're there to protect him from Harrison's death glare or apprehend the Botany crew once the crate is open and everyone can see the frozen guy encased inside.

"Is this really necessary," demands Harrison who looks both pissed and put out to be here in the middle of the night. The Botany crew look like they're sharpening knives to run Jim through while Spock seems indifferent and Leonard tired. It's not every night you get woken up to the claim that a rescued crew has a person in a crate. Even Jim has to admit, it's kind of out there and definitely within his flights of fantasy. "Opening the containers in this environment is detrimental to the integrity of the crystals. You are risking my cargo," adds Harrison.

"I cannot ignore such a claim," says Spock. He is uncertain of the validity of the accusation but to ignore it would be negligence on his part. He nods to Scotty who begins opening the crate.

Leonard lingers near Jim physically but emotionally he seems distant, like he doesn't believe Jim could be right, but will be devastated if he isn't. It doesn't matter, they'll all see in a second.

The crate pops open with the same cloud of cold air. The Enterprise crew present all step forward, except for Jim who's already seen this show. They step back speechless but not in shock, more like irritation or disappointment. "There's only Habavrioum crystals," reports Scotty, looking as though someone just spoiled the ending to a good mystery.

Jim does a double take. "What?" That's not right; it has to be some cruel joke Scotty's debuting at the most inopportune time. He steps forward, looking for his frozen friend. "No," he protests as the crystals gleam in his eye. "There was a guy in here."

Harrison looks like he's holding back a laugh as Jim turns on him. "What did you do with him?" demands Jim.

"Jim, calm down," says Leonard pulling him back.

Leonard's calm kind of pisses him off. There's a dead guy somewhere and Harrison is hiding the body. What's worse is he's making Jim look like he's losing it and Leonard isn't even slightly annoyed. "There was a guy in there," insists Jim. Leonard doesn't look overly convinced. "He must have switched crates. Open another," he begs to Spock.

Scotty moves to the next one, looking for the captain's permission to override the lock. Spock nods. The lid opens and Scotty sullenly shakes his head. "More crystals," he says apologetically. The next two are the same.

"I apologise for the intrusion," says Spock, employing diplomatic formality.

Jim's getting a little desperate. He can already tell the security detail doesn't believe him and he's losing Spock and Scotty. Leonard's gone from tired to a little sad. "I know what I saw," he insists; there's no doubt what he found. "Open another."

"I believe we have humoured the invalid enough," says Harrison, much to his crew's delight.

Spock tilts his head. This is a fragile place to be in. There is no evidence to support Jim's claim and thus no logical reason to continue the search based on a fruitless allegation but there can be no margin for error either. "Regrettably, I must insist."

They're not going to indulge Jim forever, certainly not for the other forty crates, s he has to get it soon. "That one," picks Jim at random.

The smile melts off of Harrison's face as he adopts his more typical standoffishness. As Scotty goes to a fifth crate, Jim's pretty sure they've finally found the crate in question.

"Very well then," concedes Harrison as Scotty opens the case.

Scotty runs his tricorder over the crate just to be sure there isn't some holographic technology at play. "They are Habavrioum crystals."

"This is what happens when inferior genes cloud the pool. Humanity should have bread out mental instability long ago," seethes Harrison as his men start to reseal the crated. "Captain Spock, as you know I am not subject to this kind of invasive breach of privacy, so you'll be more than understanding when I say my indulgence for this has run its course."

Something snaps in Jim. He's tired of Harrison's taunts and deception. The man is up to something and Jim can't let him get away with it. He charges towards Harrison. If Jim can't have satisfaction in exposing his lies, he'll take it in knocking that smug son of a bitch on his ass.

Jim doesn't make it to Harrison, Leonard throws himself in between them holding Jim back, and that- hurts worse than anything else tonight.

"Take him to my ready room," orders Spock. Leonard looks apologetic as he manhandles Jim who still clearly wants a piece of Harrison, out of the cargo bay. "Please forgive the intrusion tonight," says Spock before leaving Harrison and his people alone.

* * *

Jim's still spouting off about frozen men and conspiracies when Spock gets to his ready room. He doesn't relish what he's about to do, but ship operations come first. "Mr McCoy, you have violated several ship orders and infringed upon our guest's privacy."

"They're up to something," rebuts Jim. Why can't other people see that?

"They are transporting a Starfleet sanctioned shipment to a designated planet at Starfleet's request," states Spock. "You on the other hand, broke into the cargo bay and overrode several locks. It is a security breach that can no longer be ignored."

"But there was…"

"No evidence, Mr McCoy. Captain Harrison is a Starfleet operative whose property is protected by general order eighty-four, an order which I superseded tonight based on your claim." Spock's patience are running thin. He's never been fond of covert operatives but he respects their purpose. More importantly he abides by Starfleet's rules.

"A Starfleet operative?" mumbles Jim. That's new yet slightly disturbing information. Those guys are always up to no good, wearing manipulation and deceit like badges of honour.

"The specific details of Captain Harrison's mission are privileged." If Spock wasn't Vulcan, Jim would swear there was an under tone of pissed off in his voice.

"I know all about privilege, Spock, I was a captain once too. This is something else." Jim's certain, like ninety-eight percent. There's that voice of doubt that lives in his head since being escorted off his ship that says maybe he's not right. Not everyone is trying to kill him, albeit Jim probably would have more suspects in his murder investigation than most people, the universe at large isn't actively throwing psychos in his path. "I know what I saw."

"Enough," states Spock.

"It's true though." Jim can't shake the feeling this is what arguing with a father over whether or not he should be grounded would feel like if his hadn't died at the hands of the same Romulan that's left him in the position he's in now.

"You are confined to quarters except for meals and will stay away from Harrison and his crew, as well as the cargo bay and their assigned quarters," orders the captain.

Spock's clearly having none of it. Jim's not surprised. As much as he'd like to have Spock on his side, he only really needs one person to have his back. There's one person he can count on to assure him he's not insane. And that person has been pretty silent so far. "You believe me, right, Bones?"

Leonard just looks sad. God he wants to believe, but there's no evidence and it's not the first time Jim's hallucinated something. He's seen how far things can go when he covers for Jim or gives him endless rope. One day Jim'll hang himself with all that rope, and probably a few other people with him.

Leonard can't even look at Jim. The silence is more than enough of an answer. "Et tu, Bones?" says Jim, before storming out. It's a knife right in his heart. The thing is, it's not Leonard's fault; Jim knows he's backed into a corner.

Leonard stands there numbly starting at the door Jim stormed out of. Silence is its own treachery but Leonard can't lead Jim off a cliff either. There are no winners here tonight.

He feels he owes Spock some sort of explanation and Jim some sort of defense. "Not all Jim's delusions are about Narada. Some are hybrid moments between what actually happened and his brain trying to work in real information from the present. Nero would throw the dead bodies into cargo containers so they wouldn't sit and rot out in the open on the ship. He'd leave the container there so everyone could look at it and know what was in there, what fate awaited us." It's another dark secret, ghosts that still haunt the survivors. The frozen part is new to Leonard though.

"Keep him away from the Botany crew," instructs Spock and it's as close to infinite patience as they're going to get on the matter.

That night Leonard has nightmares about finding Jim's frozen corpse in a box. It goes well with Jim's side of the bed, left empty and cold all night as Jim sleeps in his blanket fort.

* * *

"Do you think I won't?" asks Nero in Leonard's ear. He's so close, the hate in his breath is burning Leonard's skin.

Leonard knows he will, there's never been a doubt in his mind that Nero will do everything he threatens and then some. Nothing Leonard says is going to change the outcome here. Nero will do it, to punish if Leonard says nothing, and he'll do it if Leonard does answer, as a warning to never do it again. Still, Leonard has to say something; not to appease Nero, but so he doesn't leave Jim in the silence.

"Please," says Leonard in a broken strangled sob. It's a good thing he's on his knees because he's too defeated and broken to stand anyways.

Jim just gives Leonard a small yet sad smile. He hasn't taken his eyes off Leonard since Nero forced them to kneel. He's close enough that he could wipe away Leonard's tears, but his arms are painfully restrained behind him.

Leonard can't bring himself to look at Jim. Every time their eyes meet, Leonard's quickly fall to the ground. He knows what's going to happen here and he can't bear to witness the moment Jim figures it out too.

"Take him," says Nero with a wave of his hand, sounding board and looking putout.

Jim fights with everything he has as Ayel and one of the guards pull him to his feet and march him along. It's no use really; they lost the fight months ago, it's all formality now.

Leonard's forgotten how to breathe. His traitorous body doesn't move an inch and because he doesn't know what's good for him, he doesn't look away.

Leonard does nothing as Jim fights, bites, kicks and screams as they shove him into the airlock and shut the door.

"Last chance, Doctor," Nero warns.

Leonard catches Jim's eyes through the window, mouthing the words, "I'm sorry," because as inadequate as they are, all other words pale in comparison.

Jim's a little more eloquent, managing, "I love you," before Ayel presses the button, opening the airlock to the dark emptiness of space.

"Frozen for all time," chuckles Nero as they watch Jim's lifeless body float away.

Leonard wakes with a start, his hand immediately shooting to Jim's side of the bed. It doesn't help that it's understandably empty and cold. Jim's not likely to forgive Leonard's lack of willingness to join team frozen guy in a box anytime soon. There are the eight minutes it takes Leonard to get from their bed to the blanket fort in the living room where he finds Jim sleeping peacefully, that he dreads the notion that Nero really did shove Jim out an airlock, and having Jim here with him has been nothing more than a beautiful dream he could get lost in forever.

Once he's confirmed Jim is alive, well and a standard thirty-seven degrees, he crawls back into bed. Sleep doesn't come. He keeps running things over in his head. There have been far too many unanswered questions lately and it's getting under Leonard's skin. Nero's words haunt him, echoing in his brain on a constant loop. It perplexes Leonard even more.

Nero never said it. Hell, Nero never shoved anyone out an airlock either- that would have been too quick for him. There are a lot more troubling things to unpack from that nightmare than an off comment from Nero. Still, it won't leave Leonard alone. Frozen in time, triggers something in his memory, something in a paper he read back in school, that he's long forgot except for a vague gist and a partial title.

Sleep isn't going to come so he might as well head into medical and see if he can pull the paper and satisfy one demon tonight.

* * *

It's Leonard's fault- mostly, but it does take two to tango. He's so lost in thought with frozen people tumbling around in his head and why something so absurd is ringing a bell, he's not watching where he's going. He walks right into someone, and he has to look up to make sure it is _someone_ because it feels like walking head first into a bulkhead.

"Sorry," he says reflexively, but no name comes to mind. Hell, he doesn't even recognize the face of the large disgruntled gentleman that's with Ling and Otto. Leonard's pretty good with faces (and people's afflictions) more than with names and he's examined every single member of the Enterprise and Botany Bay's crews so it throws him that he doesn't remember this particular individual.

"You should watch where you're going," sneers Otto with the usual smug superiority Leonard's come to expect from Harrison's people while the nameless man glares daggers at Leonard.

"Oh?" starts Leonard, because he's not in the mood.

"It's fine," says Ling, waving Leonard off and shuffling her people along. "Accidents happen, Doctor. Have a good night."

Leonard stares after them, both out of irritation and to try and remember who the hell he just ran into.

"Computer, pull all the medical files for the Botany Bay crew members entered by Enterprise physician Leonard McCoy," her orders the second he steps into his office. He has four hours until his shift officially starts to put some of these demons to rest. While the computer sorts out his request, he starts drafting a note to his fourth year professor to find the article he's been trying to remember. It's going to be a long morning. The computer flashes 'unable to transmit' as he taps send. Clearly their transmission issues are still persisting.

He'll just have to do this the hard way and search the Enterprise's data base for a copy of the research paper or a copy of the fourth year medical reading list from university that year.

* * *

"Have you given up food and coffee?" asks Uhura as she enters sickbay, setting her sights on Leonard.

Perish the thought. He usually starts with 'good morning' but Uhura is clearly irritated about something, so it's probably better to not push his luck. "Coffee is the nectar of the gods," replies Leonard. If he wasn't so occupied he probably would have enjoyed a nice large cup this morning.

"So just intentionally rude, then?"

Shit. Leonard winces. He was so caught up in his research, he forgot about breakfast this morning. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to forget 'bout ya," he apologises. "I lost track of time." He doesn't need another person pissed off at him.

"You can tell me all about what's so interesting over coffee. It's the least you can do for blowing me off this morning," says Uhura with her take no prisoners glare.

Leonard looks longingly back at his office. He still hasn't found what he's looking for and it's an itch he can't seem to scratch, well at this point it's more like poison ivy and no amount of scratching is bringing any relief. He's read the synopses of more medical articles than he probably read in his entire first year of medical school and is still coming up empty.

Uhura stands there, arms crossed impatiently waiting for Leonard to capitulate. Her coffee break is only so long.

"Alright," concedes Leonard. He can spare ten minutes to focus on something that isn't patients or research. Maybe a break will lead to inspiration.

"Whatever you're working on, it certainly has you distracted," observes Uhura as they grab a seat in the mess hall. Leonard's unusually quiet and distant; he's always well into his third complaint by his first sip of coffee.

Leonard shakes his head. "Just lookin' for something. Are we still having issues with communications?" Uhura lets out a small groan and Leonard can tell he's hit a sore spot.

That problem has been the bane of her existence for the last few days. "We're working on it but so far no luck." Scotty's loath to admit it but they might have to head to a starbase for a full work up to find and fix the problem. He'll probably try and rebuild the ship before he admits it's a problem they seem unable to fix and Uhrua can't blame him. She's starting to take it personally too.

"Would this problem affect the computer? More specifically records?"

"We can't properly identify the problem so it's hard to say but communications should have no impact on data input on the ship, accessing the larger Federation network, probably." Leonard scowls at his coffee and Uhura can see the wheels turning in his head. "What's wrong?"

"I'm missing a medical file for one of the Botany Bay crew. I've gone through them all and I can't find one for a man I saw last night with Otto and Ling."

"Maybe he didn't go to sickbay? I thought some of them were alright when they came aboard. Or perhaps it wasn't entered correctly?"

"I had them all come in for a physical after I talked to Ling. And I did the work ups myself." Uhura gives a little coy smile. "And I checked, all new reports just in case I made the mistake," assures Leonard before she can say anything. "There has to be one because people don't magically appear on ships."

Uhura takes a long sip of coffee.

Leonard drops his head into his hands. "Lord help me, I'm starting to sound like Jim."

She wasn't going to say it. "How is he?" She heard all about the other night from Spock and can see how much it's weighing on Leonard. She hasn't been brave enough to talk to Jim about it yet. What do you even say?

Leonard looks a little pained. "Pissed. Though I suppose I would be too if my husband didn't believe me." There's guilt haunting him, scratching at his soul of which he shouldn't be absolved. The lines with Jim have always been blurry, where their friendship stopped and his feelings for Jim began, where Leonard sees the Jim Kirk he used to be and could be again and where reality has taken over. Where Leonard's faith in Jim starts and the Michigan takes over.

"Do you think he was right?" asks Uhura hesitantly.

"I want him to be right, for _his sake_ , but…"

"But?"

"It's insane and there is no proof. And he can't afford for me to be wrong again." Innocent people almost died last time and Jim lost everything. It broke Jim- all over again. Leonard doesn't know how many times a soul can be shattered before the pieces are too small to piece together anymore. Leonard's the safety net, the one that has to hold the line and yank Jim back when he gets too dangerously close to the ledge.

"It will be okay. This time he has us to make sure he doesn't fall off the ledge," assures Uhura. They won't let Jim try to harm himself or get swept away in the memories of the past.

The thought of not being alone anymore brings a tear to his eye. It stings and burns as he wipes it away with the back of his hand. "I don't think Jim is feeling the _us_ part right now." Apart from being pissed at Leonard's apparent betrayal, being confined to quarters doesn't exactly scream part of the family from Jim's perspective.

"He'll come around. Jim Kirk is stubborn like that," laments Uhura before they head back to their departments.

* * *

Jim's not exactly in a socializing mood. He'd much rather take his meal in his quarters and sulk because that seems like the most prudent course of action. Chekov has this weird superpower in those big puppy dog eyes of his and despite a resounding no, still manages to drag Jim to the mess hall for lunch. He's not going to be cheery or overly pleasant because Jim has to draw the line somewhere.

He follows Chekov like a lost puppy, always one step behind and ever vigilant of the crew around him. His paranoia is winning today, though based on recent events it's probably been winning for awhile. He should talk to Leonard about it, maybe be proactive in his treatment, but he's still furious with Leonard and slightly disappointed in himself. And there's that pesky principle thing again.

Deep down Jim can't fault anyone in this situation, which is its own kind of infuriating. He's not sure he would have reacted any differently if he was in Spock's shoes but he also knows he's right about this. Harrison is involved in something, even if the frozen guy was an incredibly vivid hallucination.

Sometimes Jim wishes he was unsalvageable. That he could just get lost in the madness of his mind and never surface again. Knowing you're losing touch with reality is its own kind of cruelty. Jim wonders if Nero knew just what kind of lasting damage he was inflicting while he was doing it. Perhaps this was his end game after all? He and Leonard doomed to run from it for the rest of their lives but never quite able to run far enough to escape it.

Chekov prattles on about the efforts to sort out the communications problems and engineering's all out effort to go over every inch of the ship, circuit by circuit to correct the issue. He's either babbling because he's oblivious that Jim's acting wounded or because of it. That makes it hard for Jim to play the martyr and that's just as frustrating as everything else today. It's hard to feel betrayed if you can't wallow in the idea that you were right and everyone else was wrong or against you. Jim really wants to feel betrayed right now because the alternative means he's losing it again and he has a lot to lose here.

This is what Leonard has always been worried about, that Jim would get attached and it would all fall apart again. Happiness seems to be a trigger to the universe to unleash its next wave of darkness upon Jim. On the farm, when it's just the two of them, Jim can be bat shit crazy until the cows come home, and Leonard, the gluten for punishment he is, will never abandon Jim, nor will anyone succeed in taking him away from Jim. Jim's really good at self-sabotage and out here that means losing the crewmen he's become attached to- like one mopped head relentless navigator.

Jim's not really listening to what Chekov's rambling about, rather just enjoying the sound of his constant voice as he follows the kid to a table, food tray in hand. Jim's slightly concerned that he can't seem to do anything to put the kid off. It's the late lunch shift so the mess hall is busy, but not cramped. The only free tables are near the back, which means wading through the tables and people.

Jim freezes as he catches a glimpse of a group of Botany crew at a table. "That's him," say Jim, and it barely comes out as a whisper. He tries again, "Chekov, that's him," and this time it comes out as a croak.

It works though because Chekov stops and goes silent. He looks doubtful but is either too polite to say so or afraid disagreeing will irreparably harm Jim and their friendship. "Dead people don't eat lunch," he says, finally finding his voice.

"He wasn't dead. Not completely. There were vitals being displayed. I mean you'd have to ask Bones all the whys and hows, but that's the guy. I swear it," declares Jim, his voice getting louder and drawing the attention of the tables they're standing next to.

Disbelief is written all over Chekov's face in neon paint.

"I swear on Leonard's life," swears Jim sagely. He regrets it immediately. He shouldn't bring Leonard into this, not when there's an equal chance it is all a product of Jim's messed up mind. Truth- he wouldn't bet Leonard's life on it, but he's committed to the idea now and saying he bet's his life on it wouldn't gain the same level of consideration.

"To what end?" asks Chekov. He's a genius and he can't see the clear line from frozen in a box to having lunch with people that had him in the box.

"I don't know, but I'll find out," says Jim, turning to charge towards the table. He has them now. There's nowhere to hide and no excuses.

Jim rolls his eyes and drops his shoulders in defeat the second he feels an all too familiar hand drop down on his shoulder. He really should have been paying more attention to the possibility of pointed ears in his presence.

Jim turns and plasters on his most enthusiastic smile. "Captain! Didn't think I'd have the pleasure of seeing you today." The fake cheer in his voice turns his stomach. Spock is someone he could do without for a few days.

"Indeed," agrees Spock. The silence hangs in the air as they stare each other down. Slowly, other people start to notice the scene, abandoning their lunches to take in the show. "What were my orders regarding the crew of the Botany Bay?"

Chekov remains silent. Jim's pretty sure it's a smart move on the kids part. He's already sunk his career and almost destroyed Leonard's, Chekov doesn't deserve that.

"But," starts Jim, ready to plead his case.

Spock raises an eyebrow, looking stonewall.

"You said to leave them alone," concedes Jim, because he needs Spock to be open to listening him.

"And yet you are preparing to do the opposite."

"That's the guy," says Jim, dropping his tray and pointing to the man in question. So far the table in question has been too far away to get sucked into the drama unfolding, but Otto catches a glimpse of Jim's outstretched finger.

Spock looks, pausing a moment to consider the claim. He hasn't met all the Botany crew members, there wasn't a need, so it's not unusual the man in question doesn't look familiar. "Computer, what is the number of life forms presently aboard the USS enterprise?"

"There are currently four hundred forty-three."

"And what was the count five days ago?"

"Four hundred forty-three."

"There are no extra crewmen present, Mr McCoy."

"But…"

"Furthermore, you are confined to quarters for disobeying a direct order and will report for a physiological evaluation tomorrow with Dr M'Benga. Mr Chekov, please tae Mr McCoy back to his quarters."

* * *

"You requested to see me, Doctor?" states Ling as she barges into sickbay.

"Yes," says Leonard, busy putting away some freshly sterilized equipment from his last patient. His welcoming smile vanishes as he turns around and realizes she didn't come alone. Harrison's followed her like some morose shadow, lurking in the doorway to the recovery suite.

Shit. Harrison is the last person Leonard wantes to talk to. He's unsure Ling will be entirely helpful or forthcoming, but at least he could appeal to her as a doctor. Harrison will probably lie just for the sport of it.

"Well, go on, Doctor," insists Harrison. That predatory gleam is back in his smile. "I hope this isn't a call to simply inconvenience my crew."

The last thing Leonard wants to do is associate with the Botany crew, never mind _inconvenience_ them.

"… Like your husband," adds Harrison, for good measure, turning the knife a little deeper into Leonard's soul.

The ache in Leonard's jaw is instantaneous, as his teeth clenche hard and his hands tighten into fists at his side. Screw pleasantries and polite conversation, he's not even going to try and dance around the subject anymore. "I was reviewing your crew's initial scans and found an interesting correlation I'd like to show you." Leonard storms towards his office, practically pushing Harrison out of his way.

Ling and Harrison follow close behind. Leonard's too pissed to even try being professional about this meeting. There's something about Jim's name coming off of Harrison's lips that makes him crazy, like waving red in front of a bull. Neither of them seems interested in formality either, as Ling chooses to stand near Leonard's desk while Harrison again lurks near the door.

Leonard punches in the chart on the wall display behind his desk a little harder than necessary. "This is a scan I took of one of your crew the day we rescued you. All of your scans pretty much look identical." He waves his hand across the screen bringing another scan to lie next to the first. "This one I found in a research paper I read back in medical school."

"Your point?" hisses Harrison, looking rather board and put out.

Leonard drags the images together so the overlap, showing one perfect image of identical readings. "It was a history of medicine and technology class," states Leonard. There's no doubt in his mind that what he's looking at is the same thing.

"I don't understand what that has to with us," says Ling, cautiously.

Leonard turns and brings up a series of pictures on the screen from the research paper. "That technology was cryogenics- something we haven't used in centuries because we don't need to freeze people for space travel anymore. So just who the hell are…" says Leonard, turning around to confront Ling and Harrison, only to come up short. Harrison is standing right next to him and Leonard can feel the sharp bite of none other than his antique scalpel pressed firmly against his throat.

His eyes lock with Harrison; there's nothing but silence and Leonard instinctively knows the answer to his question. Jim was right, well sort of; the man was in a cryo chamber, a device long past its use. Whatever secrets Harrison is trying to keep, he's willing to kill for them.

There's nothing for Leonard do. He can't physically take Harrison down and if Ling isn't objecting to this action, he doubts she'll have much to say if Harrison applies an ounce more of pressure to the blade. Either Harrison will kill him or he won't, Leonard has no choice in the matter. He stares Harrison down. "You'll find it's most efficient to slit my carotid artery," says Leonard, cold and impassionate yet unyielding. "On the left."

Harrison tilts his head in curiosity. Clearly he was expecting Leonard to beg, not that it would do the doctor any good. "You are brave, Doctor," concedes Harrison, a little amazed. He pegged the doctor for a soft hearted fool. Obviously he misjudged him.

"Not brave," disagrees Leonard, fighting the urge to shake his head. "I've faced death before. There's little I can do to change your actions here. Either you kill me or you don't. It's out of my hands."

"Khan, we can't start leaving bodies around for them to find. We're not ready yet," cautions Ling.

"We're going to have to be ready, there's no more time," concedes Harrison. He lowers the scalpel but grabs Leonard by the shoulder, forcefully moving the doctor in front of him. "Come along, Doctor."

Harrison's grip is so painful it almost brings Leonard to his knees; it's practically inhuman. Spock's strong and Leonard's not sure he could grab someone so hard it would feel like he was crushing bones to pulp. Leonard has no choice but to move forward with Harrison. Being pressed tight against Harrison's chest is like held against a wall; there are no soft spots for Leonard to exploit. The scalpel digs into his back, the point announcing its presence embedded carefully between his ribs, ready to slip past and shred a lung if Harrison applies more pressure to the surgically sharp blade.

Harrison leans in close, pressing his cheek against Leonard's head, lips brushing Leonard's ear as he speaks. "Alert the nurse or anyone else in any way and I promise I will do unspeakable things to them and make you watch. Do you understand?" he threatens.

" _Not him. Such a bleeding heart. You get to watch."_

Leonard goes cold. It takes everything inside of him just to remember to breathe. He swallows hard, nodding his head minutely. All he can do is try to cooperate and keep this psycho away from his people. He'll do better this time- he has to.

"Make some excuse for leaving. Something no one will question and no one will come looking for you," instructs Harrison. His hand slips from Leonard's shoulder as they leave his office but the threat of the scalpel is ever present.

The fact that Ling seems unfazed by Harrison's actions tells Leonard just how screwed he is. He's seen how this plays out before and he's not a fan of the ending.

"I didn't know you were having a meeting," says Chapel in her usual chipper tone as the trio steps out of McCoy's office.

"Impromptu," offers Leonard, "turns out Ling and I have the same interest in historical medicine." Even he's impressed with how steady and smooth his voice is. It's a testament to just how often his life is threatened. The comm. on the wall is thirteen steps away. Leonard won't make it but Chapel might. Unfortunately, security is far more than thirteen steps away. Chapel would be able to call for help but it wouldn't do her any good nor the other two nurses on duty right now and M'Benga who could return from the lab any minute.

Chapel just smiles like she's just glad she doesn't have to be a part of that conversation.

"Ling wants to show me some of the research she's been doing over a late lunch," says Leonard. Harrison pushes the scalpel a little harder against his back, the tip easily finding its way through the weaved fabric of his uniform and the first few layers of skin. It's not enough to draw more than a pin prick of blood, but enough to get the point across.

"Then I'll probably call it a day and go check on Jim. He doesn't handle being confined to quarters very well," Leonard adds, glaring over his shoulder. It's one small mercy. If Jim's not allowed to leave their quarters, then he's relatively out of harm's way for the moment. "Can you let M'Benga know he's minding the store today?"

"Will do," assures Chapel.

The three walk out of sickbay together and Leonard wants to puke- out of relief or trepidation is unclear.


	22. Chapter 22

"But what if…" starts Jim. It's his next hypothesis in a string of theories and conspiracies he's been proposing the whole time he's been sulking in engineering. Spock be damned; that pointed eared bastard can't be everywhere and Jim's never been able to shed this teenage rebellion streak.

"No!" shouts Scotty, exasperated. Chekov winces and Jim's jaw snaps shut. A little quieter and with more patience, he adds, "I checked it myself, Jim. They were crystals." He's seen people spiral before, it's part of the reason he's letting Jim hide out in engineering despite Chekov's clear unease at disobeying the Captain's orders. Jim's definitely circling the drain, grasping at any possible explanation to support his claim from earlier this week. Admittedly, Scotty was a little disappointed not to find any evidence to support Jim.

"But…"

"No."

"I still say the brain controlling parasite idea has legs," grumbles Jim, crossing his arms.

At least the theories are entertaining today. Scotty has to give it to Jim, he's got one hell of an imagination. "Now why would a mind controlling parasite take over all of us except you and still hide a body from us?" demands Scotty, because sometimes curiosity gets the better of him.

"Maybe it's too much of a shit show up here," Jim emphasises, pointing to his head with both hands. He tries not to take that thought too personally but it still kind of hurts. Not that he wants a brain controlling parasite but it stings a little thinking he might not be good enough for even that.

Scotty shakes his head and silently prays for strength and patience today. Clearly he's the only one prepared to get any work done around here since Jim hasn't bothered to pick up a scanner or sonic driver since he stormed in here with Chekov hot on his heels. Jim lights up a little as he opens his mouth to elaborate on his theory. Scotty holds up a hand to stop the onslaught of words about to be fired in his direction. "You know what? No, I don't want to know why us and not you." It can't be healthy to keep this going. Scotty picks up his scanner and puts his focus back on work.

"Then maybe you can explain how Chekov and I saw the frozen guy walking around at lunch?" demands Jim, with satisfaction, like he just declared checkmate. He's been waiting to drop that little nugget on Scotty, who may not truly believe him but at least listens like Jim's spinning a decent espionage novel.

"You did?" asks Scotty looking down at Chekov for conformation.

Chekov just shrugs sheepishly, both unwilling to get in the middle of the debate and unsure he actually has any helpful evidence, before burying himself back in the control panel. He saw some guy at lunch but he never saw the frozen man to make any comparison to.

"What did the Captain say?" asks Scotty, a little more interested.

Jim frowns. "He didn't want to hear it." Truth is it went over like a led balloon. "He's more concerned with facts and evidence than this feeling I have that we're going to regret taking Harrison on board."

Scotty lets out a little chuckle. "Imagine that? A Vulcan not supporting a gut feeling. Did you really think you were going to persuade him without any evidence?" He crawls into the exposed panel of the control station beside Chekov.

Jim jumps to his feet, the wheels clearly turning in his head. "Then I'll just have to get some hard physical evidence," he declares.

"How are ye going to do that?" asks Scotty, shooting out of the access space so fast he bangs his head on the way out.

A grin spreads across Jim's face, one that promises trouble. "I have an idea," he says as he heads out of engineering.

"He's going to get himself thrown in the brig," sighs Scotty.

"We should probably tell the Doctor," suggests Chekov.

"Not it," replies Scotty, picking his tools up.

* * *

Leonard enters the cargo bay with a shove. The whole gang is here and looking none too happy to have Leonard intrude. The aggressive posturing and threatening stances subside as Harrison and Ling follow behind Leonard.

"What's he doing here?" snarls Otto as the rest return their focus to one of the open crates.

Ling looks to Harrison, while holding position near the door. "The Doctor is going to help us with our little problem," Harrison says, casually joining his people near the crate like he didn't just take a hostage.

Yeah, Leonard has no intentions of helping this asshole with anything. He stands firmly in place, not overly keen on cooperation in any form.

"Come along, Doctor," summons Harrison, as though his patience for toddlers has run its course.

Leonard has no choice but to move as Ling shoves him forward and towards the crate. He peers over the edge of the container and sure enough, Leonard's staring at one human popsicle. Jim was right- frozen guy in a box, or more specifically in this case, a woman in cryogenic suspended animation. Leonard's brow wrinkles in confusion. Now that he knows what he's looking at, the things Jim was saying make sense but it's not like Jim to confuse a highly attractive woman for a man.

"Carson was revived yesterday," explains Harrison like he can read Leonard's mind. "Your husband's interruption has caused us to speed up our efforts."

Isn't that just like Jim, to take whatever you thought was your path in life and derail it in spectacular and sometimes wonderful fashion. Leonard looks at the only man to make eye contact. Carson- the mystery man from the corridor, who doesn't have a medical work up, because he came onboard in a cryo chamber, of all things, disguised as a shipping crate.

It occurs to Leonard just how many shipping crates they brought onboard. Surely they can't all be… That's insane. Where would anyone even find that many working chambers? "You're planning on takin' over the ship," he manages to articulate.

That predatory smile is back. "Very good, Doctor."

"But why? Why go through all this?"

An alarm sounds from the chamber. "Khan?" shouts Ling, looking concerned while the rest of them start pulling apart and attaching wires to the chamber like some modern Frankenstein.

Ling, although having nothing more than basic medic training, has every right to be concerned. Leonard can see the woman's vitals tanking from where he's standing.

Harrison glances at him expectantly. "Doctor?"

When Harrison says it, it sounds like anything but a request. Leonard's a doctor not an engineer. He has no idea how to keep the chamber from failing and without the proper reviving sequence, coming out of cryo can be deadly. "You should have kidnapped an engineer," he admonishes.

Harrison crosses his arms looking rather amused at Leonard's moderately informal protest. His eyes gleam in the cargo bay lighting like he finally found a mouse worth of toying with. "Are you really going to stand there and let her die?" he asks, appearing as though either option will offer a new and interesting facet to Leonard.

Leonard should. These people are here to take the ship in an elaborate scheme that suggests dire consequences for the Enterprise crew. As an officer, he's supposed to resist. Name, rank and serial number. As a doctor and a human being, every blip of the alarm and twitch of the body as it fights to live demands Leonard act.

"You're more ruthless than I gave you credit for," says Harrison, dispassionately, as though the outcome here doesn't matter. "You may be worthy of joining us yet."

Leonard sneers at Harrison in disgust. "I'm nothing like you," he spits, before storming over to the chamber and grabbing the med kit out of Otto's useless hands. He runs the scanner over the chamber, confirming what he suspects. "We have to get her out of there now!" orders Leonard.

Most of them look to Harrison, refusing to move under an inferior's order. Harrison stands back quietly observing.

"If we bring Anastasia out without the proper sequence she'll die!" protests Otto.

"Possibly," agrees Leonard, "but if you leave her in a failing cryo tube she's dead for sure." He reaches over to access the ancient control screen to try and figure out the opening mechanism but Otto grabs his hand, squeezing so tight, Leonard has to bite the inside of his cheek. He turns to glare at Harrison. How is he supposed to help if Harrison's goons are going to stand in the way?

Harrison waves his hand, signalling Leonard to proceed.

Otto, refuses to let go. "But Khan," he argues.

"Let's see what the doctor can do," counters Harrison.

Otto squeezes tighter the scowl deepening on his face. "Let him go," says Ling, low yet dangerous and so only Otto and Leonard can hear her. Otto releases his grip, pushing Leonard's hand away like it's something dirty.

"Open the tube," orders Leonard as he starts rummaging through the med kit. He looks at the tools in disbelief. It's like something out of a history documentary. Like the cryo tube, these medical tools are practically medieval.

There's still some hesitation by the group to capitulate, a silent debate on what to do transpiring between them. "Do it," reaffirms Ling. The others begrudgingly comply.

Leonard doesn't exactly know what he's doing. These aren't the tools of his trade anymore, nor is this a problem he's ever dealt with in his career. Still, the basic principle is the same: keep the patient alive.

He administers a vial of a drug that's been out of use for more than a century and prays he remembers its uses correctly. It helps but more alarms sound.

He needs… he needs his own medkit, something he knows how to use, not old broken things he can only guess at. "Is this all the medical supplies you have?" he demands in disbelief. Their silence is all the answer he needs. Superior, his ass. "There's an emergency med kit in that compartment over there," orders Leonard, pointing across the room.

The order goes as well as he expected. They all look at Harrison with various levels of disdain. "We don't have time for this. Just get the damn kit!" These instruments aren't helping the patient and Leonard doesn't have to ask to know the answer to an emergency transport to sickbay.

"I'll get it," says Joaquin, running over to the compartment.

It's not fast enough, the woman stops breathing. Fuck it. They want to go prehistoric, Leonard can play that game. He starts performing good ole fashioned CPR with Ling's help until Joaquin delivers a decent medkit.

Leonard barely gets the hypo injected before the woman takes her first deep breath. A quick scan reveals her vitals are stabilizing and Leonard breathes a sigh of relief.

Ling mutters something (in what Leonard thinks was Cantonese) before ripping the scanner out of Leonard's hand. Normally he'd protest being taken off a case in such a manner, but he just sinks to the ground in relief that it worked at all. It's been a hell of a day so far.

The little makeshift medical team, (and Leonard uses that term very loosely) takes their newest member back to one of their escape shuttles, leaving Leonard on the floor.

"Well done, Doctor," congratulates Harrison, coming to stand next to Leonard.

There's something in the way Harrison says it that makes it feel anything but an accomplishment. "You want to tell me what that was all about?" asks Leonard, taking a chance on getting some kind of answer.

"My name is Khan Noonien Singh. And I'm going to save the Federation by making it worthy of this universe."

Leonard sags a little more. "Yeah?" he asks tiredly. "And who made you judge, jury and executioner of such a feat?"

"You did," replies Khan with a self satisfied smirk.

Leonard snorts. "Think I'd remember putting a psychopath in charge."

"But you did," insists Khan. "Three hundred years ago. And again when you're admirals awoke me from my slumber."

Leonard goes cold. History wasn't his favourite subject but he remembers a little bit. Three hundred some years ago was the start of the eugenics war which resulted in the outlawing of genetic manipulation of offspring. It was an especially bloody and horrific period in history in which some of the products of that genetic engineering went missing. But why the hell would the Federation set loose anyone from that period if Harrison is telling the truth. "Why?"

"Humanity lost its edge. Your peaceful ways robbed it of its teeth so when an actual predator knocked on your door you were too timid and weak to answer."

"Predator?" Leonard would remember some threat to the Federation.

"I believe you called him Nero."

That name makes Leonard nauseous under normal circumstance, hearing it out of Khan's mouth with some sick perverse admiration for the Romulan steals Leonard's breath away and causes him to break out in a cold sweat. "We stopped Nero," whispers Leonard, small and broken like saying his name out loud will summon the devil himself.

"Yes," agrees Khan, "but not before exposing your weaknesses to the upper brace. They need someone or something that can meet future threats head on, see the monsters in the dark before they strike and do what must be done to stop them."

Leonard isn't sure what universe he woke up in this morning. The Federation is a peace keeping armada designed to seek out new life and civilizations and maintain harmony in the universe not whatever Khan has envisioned. Not to mention that taking over the Enterprise doesn't look like helping the Federation, even in Khan's twisted idea of help, to Leonard. "Then why do you need our ship?"

"Because I'm no one's puppet. And no one threatens my people and gets away with it. You awoke a wolf in a flock of sheep, what did you expect? Lamb wouldn't be on the menu?"

Leonard shudders. Khan's already dangerous with his ideas and suggested pedigree but now there's a whiff of vengeance in the mix too.

"Come, Doctor," summons Khan, leading the way, "you're going to help us wake up more wolves."

* * *

Jim paces back and forth in front of the access port to the Jefferies tube network. Every step on his bad leg sends a deep ache coursing through his body, an unrelenting reminder that this is a bad idea. This is why he always leapt without looking. If you stare at the edge longer enough you begin to lose your nerve.

He thought Leonard would talk him out of this, remind him where he is, but Leonard hasn't come home yet. Jim's run out of excuses to not climb in there and find some answers- whatever they may be. The only thing holding him back is fear. He's not that reckless kid with a chip on his shoulder and nothing to lose that he once was. Yes, he's burdened with a whole new set of chips and the very visible and physical reminders that actions have consequences but he has everything to lose here.

"You used to be good at this," he sobs in some morose chuckle. Before he would have made a decision and rolled with it, however it turned out.

What he chooses to do here is going to have a profound impact on the rest of his life. The consequences for going or staying are clear and it's not just his life in he holds in his hands. This will affect Leonard too. Chekov, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, they're all going to be impacted by what Jim decides here- for better or worse. If he goes through with this and he's wrong, Spock will have no choice but to kick him off the ship. But what if he's right? If he goes back to his quarters and forgets the matter he'll keep this life but never shake the doubt that everything he knows is wrong. What if that's the wrong decision?

Fuck it. Jim crawls into the Jeffery's tube. If he can't trust himself then he doesn't really have anything anyways. He's pretty sure he's right about Harrison.

* * *

Leonard can feel Otto's eyes on him, that intense burn from the man's glare is threatening to set Leonard on fire. His eye already burns from where Otto imparted a lesson in making excuses to not revive the members of the Botany Bay from their centuries slumber. He tried to do it as slow as possible but there were too many eyes that knew far more about the process than he did and they were all watching him. He tried to buy the crew some time to figure out something was wrong but now there are forty genetically engineered augments awake and ready to do Khan's bidding and no help arrived to stop them.

So far Leonard's treatment has only been somewhat violent. He has a foreboding feeling that now that his usefulness has come to an end so has his supposed safety. He tries to stay out of the way and watch for an opportunity to alert someone to the situation.

"The men are in position," reports Carson, entering the cargo bay.

"They will resist," adds Ling, joining the conference with Khan. "Is it advisable to kill all of them?" It's a big modern ship for only forty of them to operate.

"That will be up to them," says Khan, eyeing the doctor.

Leonard instinctively knows he's not going to like whatever Khan is planning. Khan is looking at him like Leonard is the only thing standing between him and what he wants and Leonard's never been much of a fighter.

Khan strolls towards Leonard. "Now you have a decision to make, Doctor. You can help me take over the ship and spare your crew needless bloodshed or I can take it by force."

"I can't help you," replies Leonard because there has to be boundaries to how much he'll do. And he's a doctor not a command officer, there is a literal limit to how much he can do assuming he was so inclined to do so.

"There's over four hundred souls on this ship. My men can't subdue them all with physical force. I plan to vent the atmosphere on all decks except this one."

"They'll suffocate," protests Leonard. He can't help but feel like he's being played like a fiddle.

"Then give me another option, Doctor."

Panic is starting to rise in Leonard. He feels cornered and trapped. "I can't."

"Then their deaths will be on your hands," says Khan with finality. "Tell Joaquin to reroute environmental controls to me."

"Wait!" begs Leonard. Nero used to play this game too. Leonard never won then and he's not likely to win now. He lets out a long sigh, deflating in stature as he does. He's afraid to ask but he can't make a decision without all the information. "What will you do to them if you take the ship?" Even if he didn't have a desire to preserve life, he likes this crew and has an extremely vested interest in one particular soul onboard.

Khan acts like he's thinking it over. "Those worthy will be allowed to join us."

Leonard can't imagine there's too many that measure up to Khan's standards. Most wouldn't join based on principle even if they were deemed worthy. "And those that aren't?"

"I will leave them on a suitable planet."

Leonard doubts he's telling the truth, but he still knows what he has to do. The preservation of life is paramount. Sometimes that's a mathematical equation of knowing your losses and who has the best chance. It pains him to say it but, "There's containers of Preaseem gas in the storage locker on deck thirty-eight. It's used for studying certain anomalies in space but if inhaled causes unconsciousness. If it were to get into the ventilations system, it would knock the crew out."

"Excellent work, Doctor."

* * *

It's a tornado of activity, panic and blood as the shuttle docks with the Enterprise. The shuttle doors open and medics and officers swarm in, removing the injured and racing them to sickbay. There's so much chaos Leonard loses track of some of his fellow captives. Not Jim or Pike though- never Jim. Leonard walks beside Jim's stretcher, never once letting go of his hand.

The smell of sickbay hits him first. His knees start to buckle and he wants to cry. It's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

The medics take Jim to a biobed. Sickbay is full of patients and the nurses and medics look to be spread thin. The Enterprise took heavy damage in their engagement with the Narada. Leonard grabs one of the nurses. "Where's your CMO?" He might be able to lend a hand or free up someone to work on more critical patients like Jim and Pike.

The nurse looks despondent. "He was killed in battle and our other doctor is tied up in surgery," she apologizes before continuing on her way.

Damn it. Somehow Nero is still sticking it to them.

He looks between Pike and Jim. They both need surgery but Leonard only has one set of hands. Triage is a bitch. The window to help Pike is rapidly closing. Jim has a god damn space slug tangled through his body that's going to need a whole team of hands and someone with slightly better judgement than Leonard is capable of right now. Jim has time to wait, Pike does not. It's all moot though if Leonard can't get an assistant.

"Anyone with any real surgical experience?" yells Leonard over the chaos.

A tall blond raises her hand. "I have field medical training."

"Congratulations, you just got promoted Nurse..."

"Chapel," she offers.

"Chapel you're with me. The Captain has a very small window if he wants to walk again. You," warns Leonard pointing at young medic and two nurses and then back to Jim, "keep him alive and stable until a team can get him into surgery." If they know what's good for them, they won't let anything happen to Jim while he's dealing with Pike. They nod as Leonard moves Pike into the other operating room, looking longingly at Jim. "You better be here when I get back," whispers Leonard.

Chapel waits until they're standing in the surgical suite before saying, "You're bleeding, McCoy."

Leonard's shirt is soaked through now; the gauze no long sufficient to do its job. He doesn't have time this for this and neither do the sick and dying depending on the medical staff.

Chapel knows that look. She's seen it on many overly stubborn physicians in her career. She shoots him a disapproving glare but goes over to the cabinet and pulls out a med kit. She silently begins cutting away his shirt and pulling out the gauze.

"Thank you," says Leonard as she runs a dermal regenerator over it. He sways slightly. It's not a proper fix by any stretch of the imagination but it will buy him some time.

Chapel throws a new clean shirt at him. "You can barely stand." She presses her hand against his forehead; it's uncomfortably hot. "And you have a fever."

"If I don't do something, the Captain won't be standing ever again." Leonard can't really argue with her. He should be flat out on his own biobed not prepping for surgery. But the medical department is short staffed and what's worse, trying and failing, or sitting by and doing nothing while people die? "Just give me a shot of adrenaline and a wide spectrum antibiotic."

She does.

"Appreciate it."

Leonard gets himself and Pike through surgery in time to assist Dr Hath with Jim's surgery. Jim's is a bit more gruelling, having to chase a living creature around vital organs and nerves. The human body can only take so much and after six hours of cat and mouse, Dr Hath opts to postpone treating the rest of Jim's non-life threatening injuries for later.

It's probably for the best, because after ten hours of standing through surgeries on sheer will power, Leonard collapses in a dramatic heap on the operating room floor. He wakes up five days later.


	23. Chapter 23

The ship has been travelling at full impulse for about a week. The Botany crew wasn't set to reach their destination for another month so there's no rush to get them there immediately, other than a growing consensus from the Enterprise crew to part ways as soon as possible. The ship is trekking along steadily until suddenly the engines cut out.

"Captain," says Sulu with alarm. "I've lost helm control." He quickly taps buttons, looking for any kind of response. Nothing. "We're dead in the water." The navigator nods in agreement, getting zero response from her controls as well.

Roberts moves over to secondary, only to face the same grim circumstances.

Spock presses the comm. button for engineering but the switches are dead. He looks to Uhura who begins to work the problem from her station. A quick diagnostic reveals nothing, but engineering is unresponsive.

"My station is completely down," she confirms. The rest of the bridge crew silently confirms the diagnosis as Spock looks to each station for some good news.

"It appears engineering control and comms have been rerouted to the cargo bay," says Roberts, trying everything to regain some control. Tensions are rising as a controlled panic sets in.

"Captain Spock," sounds over the ship wide comm. The owner of the voice needs no introduction as a chill settles over the ship. "My crew and I have taken control of you ship."

"That is apparent. What do you want Mr Harrison?" demands Spock.

"Please, call me Khan," insists Harrison. "And what I want is for you to surrender the bridge."

"I cannot do that," says Spock, firmly. He will not allow a terrorist complete control of the Enterprise.

"Resisting will only result in loss of life. It will not keep me from my objective."

"And just what is your objective?" asks Spock as Roberts and the bridge crew work to try and reclaim control.

"To finish what we started three hundred years ago. The creation of everlasting perfection," he says with fondness.

The statement unleashes a sense of unease amongst the bridge crew. "And how do you plan to achieve such a goal?" History is filled with examples among many species that have tried to achieve this feet. It always ends in needless bloodshed and failure.

* * *

Jim halts in his crawl through the tube system and listens as Harrison goes on his long suspicion confirming monologue.

"By creating a world where the weak are subjugated and the strong rule," Khan practically sings. "I'm not unreasonable. Join us and a specimen like yourself may find a place amongst us. Surrender now and I will even show your crew mercy."

Jim would seriously get 'I told you so' tattooed to his forehead if what he was right about didn't involve a psychopath taking over the ship his husband and friends serve on. Maybe after they arrest Harrison, he'll get mugs made and hand them out at Christmas.

"You know I cannot," reiterates Spock.

Jim rolls his eyes. Harrison has to know Spock's not going to just willingly hand over a Federation starship.

"Not even to save the life of your doctor?" presses Khan with all the confidence of someone dealt a winning hand.

That gets Jim's attention in a bad way. His breath is stolen from his body like his husband apparently has been. He freezes up, his brain short-circuiting as it waits for Leonard's voice to come over the comms as he starts bitching about the inconvenience of being a hostage but it doesn't come.

Only silence from Leonard.

"I have a phaser pointed at your Dr McCoy. Either you surrender the ship to my people or McCoy will be the first body on the floor."

Jim's blood runs cold. Leonard's a doctor, this isn't his fight. He doesn't deserve this, not after everything he's been through.

* * *

The bridge crew all look to Spock to see if he'll fold or call Khan's bluff in this high stakes poker game. They're looking to him to set the tone and standard in which they will weather this storm.

"Lock down the bridge," orders Spock to his people. "Keep Khan from gaining any more control of this ship." Everyone frantically sets to work, their ears still pealed for Spock's answer to Khan's question.

"I will not surrender this ship under any circumstances," insists Spock. He only has one answer to give.

* * *

Khan jabs the phaser in Leonard's direction prompting him to speak. Leonard doesn't relish the opportunity. "McCoy here, Captain. He has the means to take the ship," confirms Leonard.

Like a chess game, every piece has its part to play. Leonard just wishes the pawns didn't have to sacrifice in game played between the bigger pieces. Both sides know the other won't stand down and blood will hit the floor today. Probably his, judging by the way Khan is gripping that phaser.

"Surely you can see your efforts to keep this ship from me are in vain?"

"It is the duty of every Starfleet officer…"

An evil smile spreads across Khan's face. "He doesn't value you McCoy," he whispers.

Leonard just sneers. It's not a point to argue, just an attempt by Khan to rattle him. Leonard's value to this ship is not measured against the safety of the universe.

"Starfleet can't protect you out here," declares Khan. "Please Captain Spock, let's avoid the part where I start counting down from an arbitrary number," sighs Khan looking board.

* * *

Jim waits with bated breath. Leonard's life is in the hands of someone else. There's nothing Jim wouldn't give to make sure Leonard was safe but he's not the captain; the responsibility for what happens after here isn't on his shoulders.

"How do I know you won't harm the crew if I do surrender?"

* * *

Khan smiles, and Leonard's really starting to hate that particular smile. "You don't."

Everyone on this ship knows Khan has no intention of keeping his word. He'll always find an excuse to hurt the crew. Nero was exceptionally good at convincing his hostages that he only hurt them because they made him do it. The same thing will happen here and Leonard has no desire to see that happen to these people.

"Don't give him what he wants on account of me!" yells McCoy, before Khan silences him with a forceful backhand.

* * *

Jim flinches at the sound of some part of Harrison, most likely a fist, connects with Leonard's flesh. He waits and prays to hear that this is some sick joke being played on him or for Leonard to pull him back from the edge he's obviously tumbled off of.

He waits.

Every moment forms a lead weight of truth he isn't strong enough to bear. There's no waking up from this nightmare. Evil has found them again and dug its fangs into Leonard's neck.

* * *

"I will not surrender this ship," responds Spock firmly, his mind turning over scenario after scenario to try and find an option in which he can protect his crew.

"Very well. Ten."

The bridge collectively gasps as an imaginary clock begins counting against one of their own.

"Nine."

* * *

"No! No," screams Jim frantically into the silence of the Jefferies tube.

Jim can feel his chest tightening, his very soul being crushed between crippling fear and impending loss. The inevitable is closing in and no matter how hard he tries, there's nothing he can do. He is a silent witness to his husband's fate.

"Eight."

He's too far away to make it to the cargo bay, too far by seven decks and four sections. He can't access transporters, even with Leonard's access codes which he committed to memory like they were his own.

It's getting hard to breathe; each strangled gasp further failing to sate his deprived lungs. There's not enough air and not enough time. It's supposed to be Jim who goes out in a blaze of glory, not Leonard and not at the hands of a man like Harrison.

"Seven."

* * *

Spock can feel all eyes on him, the inevitable question of what if it was one of them in Dr McCoy's place turning in their brains. Would their captain let them die? Is he really going to let the doctor perish? No loss is acceptable but Spock is burdened with being responsible for more than just this ship.

He has a duty, as does everyone that puts on the uniform, including McCoy.

"Six."

He turns every scenario over in his head, calculating outcomes in search of one with an agreeable conclusion. There are none. This is his very own Kobayashi Maru and he'll see it through, as distasteful as it is.

* * *

"Five," says Khan in his slow steady rhythm. The doctor doesn't flinch or even divert his eyes. It's rather impressive. He's seen far greater men snivel and beg in this position only to have a doctor who by trade is a bleeding heart and weaker in spirit hold his ground in the face of his own demise. It's more than he expected from a product of such a weak system.

A shame really, McCoy would make both an interesting study and potential specimen worthy of inclusion in the coming new world.

Still, an example must be set. He adjusts his grip on the phaser. "Four."

* * *

"No. No, no, no, no," stammers Jim. The walls are closing in. He feels like he's on a treadmill, each step gaining him nothing. He has nothing to barter with, the ship isn't his and his life is useless to Harrison.

He promised Leonard wasn't going to die at the hands of that lunatic Nero. He had no idea there would be another mad man Leonard needs protection from even more.

Jim doesn't have a plan for when he gets to the cargo bay, he just has to get there. That horseshoe he was born with can't fail him now. He'd trade everything he ever had or ever was, just to get there in time.

"Three."

* * *

The bridge holds its collective breath in anticipation of a miracle, knowing one isn't likely to materialize. They're going to be witnesses to an execution.

The only one Spock can make eye contact with is Uhura. Leonard is his crewman, but her friend. If they survive this engagement with Khan, after Jim, it's her forgiveness he will have to seek.

It's all there in her eyes: fear, grief, sorrow, even pity. He looks but can't find an ounce of condemnation for what he is about to do.

It is preferable to say yes but that surrender ultimately won't save the doctor or the crew.

* * *

There's an eternity between heart beats, one in which Leonard lives every life imaginable with Jim. He can see it, a time where they might have been able to wake up late on a Sunday morning and try to make breakfast with a bunch of blond blue-eyed under foot while Joanna practices her violin. Or another time where they might have been able to bring each other home for the holidays from the academy to celebrate with their families and finally get married after graduation. He sees a world where Nero never happened and Jim's captaining his own ship.

It brings a sense of calm over Leonard. Nothing more than flights of fancy and withering hope but god he can't get enough of Jim and if in the end all he has is sweet dreams of what might have been, he'll take it. He can't set the terms of his end but won't go out in terror. With a little guilt maybe. The last thing he shared with Jim was mistrust and now he can't set that right. He just wishes he could tell Jim he loves him, one more time.

"Two. What is your answer?" asks Khan.

"I will not provide you with a ship," says Spock simply, knowing what it means.

"As you wish, Captain Spock. We will take the ship by force. One," says Khan. Khan is never a wealth of emotion but he looks a little disappointed as he gives McCoy his full attention. "Forgive me, Doctor," he apologises before pulling the trigger.

The sound of a phaser discharging sounds over the comms echoing through every inch of the ship and Leonard knows no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try really hard to not leave the story hanging here for too long but I have to get my art pieces ready for a market show and probably won't be able to polish the next chapter until after which would be some time after August 1st. :(


	24. Chapter 24

Jim doesn't pack much. It seems wrong to take anything that's not solely his. He's taken everything else from Leonard the least he can do is leave the physical remnants of their life together; to destroy or put in storage, is up to Leonard. Selfishly, Jim hopes he keeps the things they've accumulated together, treasures them the way Jim wants to, but he understands if Leonard's hate forces him to get rid of them. Jocelyn took everything from Leonard and Jim's not so much of a bastard he'd do the same. Jim has no place to take any of their belongings anyways; Leonard is home and he just ceremoniously severed that tie completely.

He catches the first shuttle out of Vancouver and heads to the last place he ever wanted to return. The smell of fresh air, wet dirt and uniquely Riverside, hits him as the cab drops him off without pomp and circumstance at the end of the long dirt driveway. It takes Jim about twenty minutes to hobble to the house but when he finally gets there, Winona is standing on the porch waiting to take his bags.

"It's for the best, Jim," she says in a reserved melancholy tone that Jim appreciates as he dejectedly walks into the old farmhouse. Her hand brushes his as he passes in some bid for maternal contact to ease her son's obvious suffering. A broken heart is hard to piece back together.

The house looks exactly as he remembers it. It never changes. Jim hasn't been home since the thanksgiving he brought Leonard home to introduce him as his husband after he was released from the hospital. Before that, the last time he darkened these doors was when he was sleeping off his hangover before meeting the shuttle to take him to the academy. Winona is here even less, leaving the house to sit as a shrine to days gone by. Like most of Jim's childhood, she spends her time off world on assignment. Jim hasn't decided if it's sheer audacity on the universes part or an olive branch that his mother happens to be home now.

She's always been nice to Leonard when he's in her presence but has often imparted to Jim that she believed Leonard wasn't right for him. Jim suspects there's an 'I told you so' awaiting him. It will have to wait for another day; he's not in the mood to hear his mother was right about his relationship.

Jim stops in front of the mantel above the fireplace. Adorning it is the only Kirk family picture in existence. The happy couple- George and Winona, smiling and holding hands, with a young Sam hoisted high on his father's shoulders giggling while George places a safe and protective hand over Winona's extended belly. Jim's always been jealous of that picture. Everyone's perfect and happy in it and Jim's still two months away from actually being visible in it.

The picture is nothing more than a false promise. The Kirk's never turned into that happy family and Jim's realizing that he's never even going to get close to having a photo like that. Sam who's the spitting image of their mother, and left home the first chance he could, has ended up turning out like their father- with a wife, kids, and a home. Jim who looks to be every inch his father, is in fact his mother, a coward running away from love with a string of one night stands; sentenced to spend the rest of their existences alone, longing for a love they couldn't keep. There will be no portrait of him and Leonard with a pig-tailed Joanna adorning his living room walls.

Jim stops at the liquor cabinet, before heading up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * *

The sound of cows ambling through the field wakes him from his dead cold sleep; drool crusting along his bottom lip and left cheek. His mouth's dry and tastes of something awful. It takes him a moment to realize he's alone in his small single bed; the loneliness swift to climb in and tangle itself with Jim's being.

He struggles down the stairs, stiff and sore but driven to find the source of the delicious aroma creeping around the old farmhouse like a ghost.

"Good afternoon," greets Winona, pulling a pot off the stove.

"Afternoon?" asks Jim, yawning. He doesn't even remember going to sleep last night or anything beyond the burn of bourbon. Bourbon's not his go to drink of choice, but it seemed fitting last night.

He heads to the fridge, reaching up to the cabinet above and pulling out a bottle of vodka- that's more like it. He can feel Winona's eyes on him as he fills a glass and takes the bottle with him to the table.

"I made you something to eat," she says, setting a plate down in front of him.

It actually looks edible. From what Jim can remember, his mother's cooking skills were not dissimilar to his own nonexistent food preparation talent. He takes as long drink before his first mouthful. If it's too horrible, the alcohol will help mask the taste.

Winona sits down across from him, intently watching his first bite.

"It's good," says Jim around a second mouthful.

Winona says, "Good," with a smile before frowning and chastising, "it's a little early for that isn't it?" She nods towards the bottle.

Jim shrugs. "It's afternoon." It's not like he has anywhere to be or anything to do. "Where'd you learn to cook?"

"Jeff taught me a few dishes. Eating the same replicated mush everyday was getting boring."

"Jeff?" asks Jim. That's a new one. The last he heard she was involved with some guy named Co-mel on the research station around Jupiter.

"It doesn't matter," says Winona getting up from the table. "If you're staying here there are chores that have to be done.

"Right," says Jim with a sad smile as she walks away. He finishes his lunch and takes the bottle to aid him while feeding chickens and chopping firewood.

* * *

"It's getting cold," says Winona sitting down in the hay next to Jim in the loft. She hands him a jacket.

Jim takes it but throws it to the side. He's been out here every night for the last few months, if the night air hasn't killed him yet, it's not going to. He can't feel the cold right now anyways; he's made his way through the vodka and is working on the whisky. They sit in silence staring at the large full moon through the open hay door. Jim's spent many nights as a kid up here, watching the night sky, dreaming of being out there. Who would have thought he'd be here again wishing for the same thing? Somehow the universe feels emptier than it used to, even though Jim's been out and seen that it's anything but empty.

"Happiness isn't at the bottom of that bottle," says Winona when Jim's three quarters through.

Jim mutters, "Might be at the bottom of the next one." Whisky brought a few of its closest friends to the party in what's a clean break from the liquor cabinet. Jim'll restock it in the morning- again.

"My poor baby," she soothes, brushing his shaggy bangs away from his forehead. Her brow furrows and lips tighten as the vicious scar marring his face catches the moonlight. "He was always going to leave."

Jim rolls his eyes irritated. Why can't his mother see how amazing Leonard is? "I left _him_ ," corrects Jim sternly.

"Still for the best," says Winona looking longingly at the sky. "They all leave you in the end, one way or another."

"You're horrible at pep talks." Jim takes another swig.

"He didn't fight for you," she says, rather indignant on his behalf.

Jim goes really still, the familiar hot burn of tears returning. Quietly he says, "He did." It's important that the world knows that. Leonard McCoy does not throw in the towel willingly. "He was just willing to walk away because he wants great things for me and I told him he wasn't it." There's a bitterness in his voice. Why couldn't Leonard be as selfish as Jim and refuse to let go?

"There are no fairytale endings in life, Jim. No matter how much we want or need them."

That resonates with Jim. For one brief and shining moment he had it all and just as fast as the stars aligned, the universe snatched them away. For the first time, he has an inkling as to what makes his mother tick. "Why didn't it work out with Pike? Or any of them?" Mostly he wants to know drove her and Pike apart. Pike was the one he was secretly routing for. Pike showed up when most didn't and stuck around way longer than any other man Winona brought around. Pike is the only glimmer of a father he's ever known. Even if there was some flaw in the Winona-Christopher match, surely Winona could have made it work with someone.

Winona grabs the bottle out of Jim's hand and downs the rest herself. After a moment she says sadly, "Love isn't always enough. I spent most of my relationships looking for George. I would date this one because he had your father's eyes or that one because the touch of his hand felt like George. Those relationships weren't based on anything real, only the desperate need to chase a ghost. Christopher was the first time I couldn't see some piece of George."

"So what went wrong?" he asks intrigued.

"Me," she says simply. I kept him distant because I didn't want to confuse you kids. I didn't want anyone to replace George. And then I was worried what everyone else would think. George was only gone four years and I was involved with his best friend. Then I realized I was depriving you boys of something wonderful. And Chris was wonderful. He was teaching you to ride your bike in the driveway over there and I realized I loved him and he loved you boys."

"I remember that." Jim remembers it fondly; the feel of the wind in his hair as he sped down the driveway to the cheers of Pike and Sam. It was his first taste of freedom and he loved it. Afterwards they had fresh blueberry pie that Winona had picked up from the market that morning.

"I got scared. I'd become too familiar with who _I_ was that I didn't know how to work someone else into that and not lose myself. Losing your father had become a deep familiar ache I wasn't ready to lose and I was afraid I'd forget what it was like to love and be loved by George Kirk if I let myself love Chris completely."

Jim reaches out and takes her hand. What a pair they make. He sees his future and doesn't like it. Sure different bed fellows will get him through the years but clearly the ache for Leonard is never going to disappear. Worse, he's seen what loving his mother has done to Pike. Jim can't bear the thought of Leonard not knowing love again. Leonard should know love, he deserves love. Leonard will never find it with Jim in the world.

"Don't stay up too late," says Winona as she heads to bed.

Jim nods. "I won't." He'll blackout in an hour or so anyways.

When morning finally comes, Jim's packed his few belongings and strapped them to the back of his bike. He's determined to burn the memory of Leonard and everything he's lost out of his brain and he can't do that here where ghosts lurk in every corner. There's a bar across the state line where the alcohol is way over proof, no questions are asked and a fight's waiting around every corner. If that one doesn't work there's a couple more down the road that should do the trick.

* * *

The phaser blast is unmistakable and inescapable. It comes across the comm. in a resounding shockwave that sucks everything out of the universe, leaving Jim cold and empty. He slumps against the side of the Jefferies tube, his limbs uncoordinated noodles. His grief and disbelief bubble up in a wretched howl that tears its way from his very soul as it withers and dies, echoing down the tubes like an oncoming bullet train. "Bones."

Everything stops and ceases to exist. Jim's convinced he's dead, stuck in some hellish purgatory that will never end for crimes he can't begin to account for. He wants to retreat into some memory, anyone that has Leonard in it, even the horrible ones. It could be Nero or any fucked up mistake Jim's made in his life, so long as Leonard's there. He scrunches his eyes shut and waits to get swept away in the flashbacks that have crippled his life. Traitorous bastards! The one time he wants to escape reality is the only time he has an unwavering and firm grip on it.

Tears pool and burn his eyes but they do not fall. Even his tears are lost too, now that Leonard's not in the world. Jim's prepared to lay down and die here, to wait until death's cold hands see fit to unite him with the one person that truly mattered to him. His rotting corpse will be one last fuck you to Harrison and his people as they try to find what's stinking up their new ship in a couple of weeks. It's a morose thought, but Jim can't help but take joy in it. He doesn't have anything else left now.

Harrison taking the ship means a lot of other people are going to die and even more are going to feel the way Jim does now- people like his and Leonard's friends.

As much as Jim wants to give up, he can't leave them to share Leonard's fate. His grief and despair turn to fury and rage like a lightning bolt splitting a tree. Harrison's done what Nero could only dream- he's taken everything away from Jim. Jim's going to make that son of a bitch pay.

Jim gets back on his hands and knees, his shoulder and leg crying out against such use. He carries on his trek towards the cargo bay- driven and relentless. His life has a singular focus now. He'll avenge Leonard or die trying.

The Jefferies tube fills with the constant hiss of something being pumped through the ventilation system. Jim hangs his head in defeat. Harrison is gassing the crew so he can take the ship without firing a shot.

… with firing only _one_ shot.

Jim moves faster, trying in vain to out run this invisible enemy. If he can make it to the next control junction perhaps he can seal himself on this segment and purge the gas. Hand over hand he goes, holding nothing back.

His throat stats to hurt the same time his muscles start to fatigue. The sharp granular feeling gets worse with each breath he takes making his body shake with wrecked coughs. The junction is in sight, but he feels like he's swimming in molasses. His arms and legs are heavy, too heavy to move despite his best efforts. Jim can't seem to catch his breath.

He sprawls out on the cold metal surface of the Jefferies tube, his body still convinced it's making progress towards its goal, even though Jim can barely twitch a finger. So close, but so far, he thinks bitterly as his eyes grow heavy. He couldn't protect the man he loves and now he can't even attempt to go out in a blaze of vengeance fueled glory.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into the lonely emptiness as he succumbs to the gas. If there's any kind of a god in this universe, he'll show mercy and Jim will never wake up in this Leonard-less world.

* * *

Jim storms into their dorm room looking pissy and clearly hating the universe. He throws his reading materials and assignments on the bed violently before pacing from his bed to their small kitchen nook like he's not sure where he wants to implode.

Leonard peers over the top of his PADD. He needs to study for his diplomacy class, not get sucked onto whatever this drama is. Jim's the sun, and Leonard would gladly bask in that beautiful light but he promised himself he wasn't going to get burned again. He got too close last month and he's still sporting a horrible sunburn. Jim's failed second attempt at the Kobayashi Maru lead the pair to a seedy bar in the heart of the city, the kind of bar only Jim can sniff out. The alcohol flowed fast and furious and at some point just before dawn when Leonard was picking Jim up off the floor, Jim leaned in for a kiss. God help Leonard, but he almost went for it. It would have been so easy to just lean in and give into the desperate needy ache he's been trying to ignore for the last year.

Jim's never been overly discerning when it comes to sexual partners and he was drunk enough that Leonard's pretty sure he wouldn't have protested that night but come the light of day Leonard knows it would irreparably change things between them. Leonard would be the love sick fool and Jim would carry on as though it meant nothing, until he noticed how hung up and infatuated Leonard was. The distance would start, half baked excuses on Jim's part to do things without Leonard until they were no longer in each other's orbits. Or worse, Jim would notice and string Leonard along for all those nights Jim didn't want to sleep alone and nothing more.

Jim's not bashful, if he felt anything for Leonard besides friendship he would have said something by now. He hasn't- so Leonard can only conclude the most he'll get from Jim is friendship, and that'll be enough. But he can't lose that friendship for one moment of bliss and so, Leonard's promised himself to create a safe distance, one he can't drunken or desperately stumble across.

It starts with not getting sucked into this, he tells himself, as he watches Jim pace like a cat in heat and steadfastly ignores the sexy pout Jim has when he's turning things over in his head that piss him off.

Jim keeps putting in laps, testing the structural integrity of the dorm's flooring. The tiles in the kitchen area are already showing slight grooves from the path Jim usual paces. Normally Leonard would have said something by now, the pacing usually drives him mad, but he's been acting strange the last couple of weeks. Jim would contemplate that odd turn but he's trying to work off the energy of his latest idea. He unzips his jacket and tosses it towards his bed as he circles around again. The toss is a little premature, his jacket landing on Leonard's bed or more specifically, Leonard's legs.

"I thought you were studying with Gaila tonight?" grumbles Leonard, and he uses the term study pretty loosely. He doesn't think either one of them has even attempted to study anything together except anatomy.

"I was going to, but then I started thinking…"

"Oh lord."

Jim frowns. His ideas aren't that bad. For someone who goes along with all of his plans, Leonard sure complains a lot the whole time. "I want to try the Kobayashi Maru again."

There's something about hearing that word that makes Leonard twitch. It's a part of the command track requirements and every cadet leaves shaken but it hit Jim incredibly hard. Leonard spent three days putting the kid back together after that. Then the dumb son of a bitch decided to do it again! Leonard's not sure he can continue to keep stitching this particular would closed. He's not sure why Jim's so hungry to put himself through that again either. He slams his PADD down on the bedside table. Most people are smart enough not to stick a fork in an electric socket a second time- not Jim. It pisses Leonard off. "Are you allergic to doing the smart thing?" demands Leonard, irritation crawling all over him like ants.

"It doesn't bother you that nobody beats it?" counters Jim, confused as to why Leonard gets so bent out of shape about it.

"You can't cheat death, Jim. That's the point of your stupid test," snaps Leonard, throwing Jim's jacket back at him.

Jim catches it just before it hits him in the face. "Says the guy that cheats death for a living."

Leonard holds his finger up. "That's different. I don't cheat death, I just hold it off. Everyone I save will eventually die some day. _I_ know that. Do _you_ know that you may have to give a command that sends someone to their death? That there are days ships don't come home?"

"Of course I do!" shouts Jim. He's well aware of what is expected and required of him to sit in that chair. But planning for failure is accepting failure in his book. Shouldn't he strive to bring everyone home every time? There's always a solution if you look hard enough. That should be the point of the test.

Leonard picks his PADD back up. He's not in the mood for this particular fight. "Commander Milling stopped by," informs Leonard, going back to his reading.

An officer looking for Jim is rarely a good thing, especially Millings who seems to have made it his career goal to get Jim to wash out of the academy. What else could go wrong today? "What did he want?" snaps Jim.

"Don't shoot the messenger," grumbles Leonard.

"You learn that in your diplomacy book?" spits Jim.

"Yep," replies Leonard, unfazed by Jim's anger targeting him. "Right here on page three-thirteen." He reaches over to grab the PADD left by Millings and tosses it in Jim's general direction.

Jim catches it easily, letting his jacket fall to the floor.

Leonard watches as Jim scrolls through it, waiting for the moment Jim gets to the important part.

"Huh," says Jim casually, sauntering over to his bed and flopping down.

"What is it?" ask Leonard, still pretending to read his PADD.

"I was accepted for the last command track field experience spot on the Troubadour." There's a bit of wonder in Jim's voice, like a child going for their first shuttle ride. Silence fills the dorm room as Jim stares at the PADD like he's waiting for it to change to a denial letter.

Leonard vaguely remembers Jim prattling on about applying for the Troubadour practicum. It was some whim that Jim was planning, mostly because the blond that sat three rows in front of them in cartography class was excited about it and planning on going, and wouldn't give Jim the time of day until Jim said he was applying too. Jim wouldn't need to go to space to get into her pants, that conquest happened a week later, but oddly Jim didn't withdraw his application.

Leonard isn't as surprised as Jim is that he got the spot, but now Leonard's looking at potentially spending the next three months Jim-less. It's the distance he probably needs to get his head back on straight but there's still a bitter ache at the thought of Jim happily traipsing off without him. "Shouldn't you be more excited?" huffs Leonard. He might not be thrilled at the thought of Jim going out there alone, but Jim should be ecstatic. "I thought all you command kids wanted actual experience?"

Jim does. He wants his turn at that chair as soon as possible but it falls during the same time he's booked in to try his hand at the Kobayashi Maru again. That test is an itch buried beneath his skin and the more he scratches, the deeper it goes. "It's the same time as the Kobayashi Maru."

There's that word again. Leonard clenches his teeth.

"I want to take the test again, but I want this spot on the Troubadour too. I think I want to re-take the test more." Jim loves a good fight but he hates to lose. Losing to a test hurts even more. Plus there are other reasons to not want to leave for three months. "What do you think I should do?"

Leonard's not going to get invested, he's absolutely not, he reminds himself. He's tired of getting hung up on people that will never feel for him the way he feels for them. He was far more invested in Jocelyn than she ever was in him. Of course Leonard selfishly wants him to stay, but not to take a test Jim won't pass in the way he wants. How is Leonard supposed to ask Jim to stay so he can pine quietly in a corner over Jim. He should tell Jim to go.

Leonard puts his PADD back on the bedside table. He's not going to get any studying done tonight. "I think you should pick your socks up," snaps Leonard rolling over to face the wall.

Jim screws up his face. "You mean get my shit together?" Jim's not the hot train wreck he once was. He's not as together as some as his cohorts, but he's no longer a disaster in progress.

"No. I mean literally start picking up your socks. They're everywhere!" lectures Leonard. "As a concept, it's not that hard. Even you should be able to wrap your head around it.

"They're not everywhere," protests Jim, looking around the room at the few spots currently occupied with his socks. He'll grab the pair off the window sill when Leonard's asleep. Clearly Leonard's in a mood about something and Jim doubts it's just about his ability to distribute socks throughout their dorm. In fact, things have been off for awhile. Leonard obviously needs a vacation or to get laid- probably both. Jim's more than willing to help with the latter but every time he even hints at it, Leonard gets all squirrely and snarly, which is fine, because Jim has a good imagination to hold him over. A very good imagination.

Leonard reaches under his bed and grabs a pair of rolled up socks, throwing them at Jim. "I found these in the replicator. How do socks even get there?" asks Leonard, perplexed. He quickly changes his mind as wild scenarios fill his head. "No, I don't want to know."

"You're cranky," huffs Jim, flopping back on his pillow for dramatic effect.

"Dimwitted man-children make me cranky," counters Leonard, looking subtly over his shoulder to admire Jim's long lean form like it's the last time he's going to see it. "You should take the spot on the Troubadour," he says quietly, "it a great opportunity." He honestly doesn't know what he's going to do without Jim around. Selfishly, he wants to hold onto Jim and never let go, but that would be like keeping a bird in a cage. Sure, the bird would eventually be happy with a home and a guaranteed meal but it would still long to fly. Leonard wants to be more than settled for, he wants to be the thing longed for more than the sky.

Maybe Leonard's right. This is an amazing opportunity and the Kobayashi Maru will be waiting when he gets back. So why isn't he jumping at the chance? Jim's head lolls to the side so he's looking at Leonard's back as the cranky doctor feigns sleep. There's more to stay here for than just proving Starfleet wrong and beating their stupid test.

Jim's eyes widen. He can have the best of both worlds. "Come with me," begs Jim excitedly. "I know there's still a few medical spots left."

Yes, because that's what Leonard needs, to pine for Jim in a different location. Leonard turns over in a huff. "I'm fine, right where I am," he protests.

"You need a vacation," counters Jim, adding under his breath, "and a good roll in the hay."

"What was that?" snaps Leonard with a scowl. "The last thing I need is to be playing nurse maid, picking up your discarded clothes in a cabin on a starship."

"You said it yourself, it's a great opportunity," sings Jim, giving Leonard his best puppy dog eyes. It will be fun, the two of them running amuck on a ship. It will be great practice for the day Jim gets his own command. "Please."

How is Leonard supposed to say no to that look? "Guess I can't leave you all sad and pathetic lookin'. I'll put in an application tomorrow. But you owe me." Leonard's weak. He always has been as far as Jim's concerned.


	25. Chapter 25

Jim blinks his eyes open, slowly at first then quicker to make the muted silvers and blacks of the Jefferies tube take shape into something more recognizable than the nothingness of oblivion. The painful throb in his head is relentless; he needs to get the name of the bartender that over served last night. At the very least he could have picked a better place to sleep off his drunken stupor than the unforgiving grates of a Jefferies tube.

It's awkward but Jim manages to flop around like a fish enough to settle himself into a sitting position. He cradles his aching head, his shaking fingers a poor comforting substitute in the absence of Leonard's warm steady embrace . "Computer," he croaks, his voice brittle and throat painful dry. "What time is it?"

"The time is zero five hundred hours," chirps the computer.

Jim lets out a long sigh. He's been out all night; Leonard's going to be pissed. Leonard's… _Leonard._ It hits Jim like a house being dropped on him- Khan, the Botany crew taking the ship, the gas…

The phaser blast.

Jim looks up and down the Jefferies tube, but he is alone, completely, utterly alone. There's no one to tell him it was a mistake or lie, and say it's going to be alright. There's no Leonard to make everything better, to pick up Jim's broken jagged pieces and build something worthwhile. Jim's never felt so alone in his entire life and he's spent more than his fair share left to his own devices. Khan's taken everything- hope, love, his future. His hands clench into tight fists, his fingers going white and his joints tensing to the point of breaking. There's nothing to hold on to though, no amount of punches that are going to release the fire and fury that's ignited to consume Jim's fragile soul.

Khan's taken everything from Jim and he'll be damned if he doesn't do the same to Khan. The first thing Jim's going to take, is this ship.

He abandons his trek to the cargo bay, detouring at the next junction to make his way to engineering.

* * *

Jim watches intently from an access grate, high above in engineering. The Botany crew has it secured but their over confidence is showing because they only have two permanently stationed guards here to run the department and keep an eye on Scotty and Chekov, who they've seen fit to keep tied up in engineering. Much to his disappointment, Khan isn't one of the men posted to engineering. No one seems inclined to come and check in with engineering so if Jim times it right, he only has to deal with two augments. Two. Piece of cake right?

Jim remembers what it was like to punch Otto and he doesn't like his odds, even if he was in perfect shape. He's going to need help.

He crawls quietly back through the tube system and heads for his quarters. The ship is eerily quiet like a graveyard. Gone is the throbbing pulse of a crew of four hundred living their lives and navigating duty shifts, replaced instead by the silent and unrelenting iron vigil of forty highly skilled combatants. From the bits and pieces of conversation he picks up as he passes through the ship unnoticed, the majority of the crew are locked in their quarters with the exception of the bridge crew whom are being held in one of the briefing rooms.

Jim climbs out of the junction nearest his quarters. Normally at this time the corridors would be filled with people hurrying to grab breakfast before alpha shift or the slow saunter of the zombies coming off of gamma shift, looking for the sweet embrace of a bed. Now there's nothing but the dimmed lights casting shadows down empty halls. Jim hugs the walls, exercising caution like a mouse evading a cat, in case one of their captors comes this way.

Jim gets to the door and enters his code. The door beeps its denial. He supposes it would be too much to ask for something to go smoothly, but points to Khan for changing every lock. He tries Leonard's just for good measure and then Leonard's medical override code that Jim absolutely did not crack and memorize behind his husbands back for the unlikely case that Jim needs to get somewhere he's not supposed to. Kudos again, the door refuses to budge with another harsh beep.

Jim bites his lip, digging his fingertips into the small crack between the door interface and wall. "We'll see about that," he mutters, removing the face plate and exposing the circuitry underneath. He hisses as a circuit shorts sending a sharp burst of electricity into Jim's fingers before the door finally caves into Jim's demand. "Three hundred year old popsicle man, you've got nothing on the only genius level repeat offender in the Midwest."

He places the faceplate back on the wall and steps inside. The door slips closed plunging the room into darkness. "Computer, lights." The lights slowly come up, chasing away the shadows but the cold dark feeling remains. Everything is exactly how he and Leonard left it, but it feels different. The warmth of home has vanished, replaced with a haunted tomb like quality that sends shivers down his spine. This room is a shrine, a holy testament to the life and love of one Dr Leonard McCoy. It's sacrilegious to be standing in such a holy place; Jim's clearly not worthy of that love. If he was, he would have been able to save his husband.

Jim walks along the wall, staring at the pictures hanging there. They no longer feel like candids chronicling their lives and the happy home they've constructed, but rather portraits in a museum, the final hallmarks of the once living. It's like looking at a stranger, not the laughing visage of Leonard as Jim tries his hand at Joanna's violin or the three of them on a picnic sitting next to a lazy river.

Jim never thought he'd be jealous of himself, but looking at those pictures and how happy they all were, he'd do anything to be that Jim again. It lights a fire deep within, one that burns hot with an insatiable appetite that he needs to roast Khan over.

He runs his finger over Leonard's face, desperate to commit every detail to memory, to remember the warmth of Leonard's skin. A picture just doesn't capture the rich texture of Leonard's hair or the faint taste of peaches and bourbon Jim swears he can taste when his tongue worships Leonard's body. It's all gone and Jim's left with nothing but fading memories and a deep ache.

Jim has memories he's been fraught to forget for years; moments in time he would give anything to unfreeze. Now that memories are all he has left of Leonard, those one are quickly fading. Already the image of Leonard's dimple that appears when he's desperately trying not find Jim adorable is becoming less vivid. Jim would map out every shard of yellow and four shades of green that comprised the kaleidoscope of color that forms Leonard's hazel eyes and now Jim can only picture a vague sense of monotone green.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches something white tucked half in the couch cushion. Leonard is usually the one that tidies the room up after Jim's gone to bed. Leonard didn't get a chance to last night. He never will again, thinks Jim as he pulls the sock out. He carefully folds it with its pair and tucks it safely in the closet drawer in their bedroom.

The bed isn't made either, not the way Leonard likes it anyways. Jim's fingers itch to fix it; a small apology that's so late, it doesn't matter anymore. This isn't what he's here for, Jim reminds himself.

He heads to the bathroom which does nothing for his resolve. It smells of Leonard's cologne with faint notes of that hair cream he uses on mornings when Jim's kept him in bed too long and mussed up those beautiful black locks into something untameable.

Leonard's medical bag sits on top of the cupboard next to the vanity. Jim rummages through it until he finds the vials Leonard medicates Jim with. "Always prepared for everything," hums Jim, grabbing the vials and hypo injectors.

He takes one last look at the home he's shared with Leonard since boarding the USS Enterprise before leaving and crawling back into the Jefferies tube system.

* * *

"Bones!" says Jim with relief as he lays eyes on the doctor huddled in the corner. The situation might be perilous but at least he knows Leonard is alive, and that, feels like a victory. Jim wades through the huddled masses of the surviving crew members and sits down next to him. He wants to hug Leonard, to kiss every inch and hold him until the troubled look haunting those deep hazel eyes vanishes. He wants to, but he doesn't. Not only would it give the guards something to work with, but Jim's too afraid he'd hurt Leonard if he lays a finger on him.

Leonard's cradling his left arm protectively against his chest and the wound over his eye is bleeding heavily, never mind the fact that the rest of him looks like a well used punching bag. It just speaks to what their captors are capable of. Jim's a little rough because he excels at being a pain in the ass; he goes nowhere and does nothing quietly. Leonard, not for himself but in the interest of the preservation of those around him, will cooperate and remain passive, so if they see fit to assault a doctor like this, none of them are safe.

"Are you okay?" whispers Jim. It's a redundant question, there's no way Leonard is okay but one word and there will be an unholy rampage of retribution on his behalf.

Leonard glares at Jim like he's particularly stupid before going back to intently staring at the ground.

Jim hasn't seen him this distressed since that shuttle ride out of Riverside. "Don't worry. I'm going to get us out of this," insists Jim. He watches the guards pace back and forth in front of the door while a couple more drag in any remaining stragglers they find.

"Yeah? And how are you going to do that?" Leonard grumbles, tilting his head towards the armed guards. This is why man has no business in space.

"You just let me worry about that." Jim has no idea what he's going to do but everyone makes mistakes, he just has to keep his eyes open for one he can exploit.

"Romulans aren't exactly push-overs, Jim. Besides, I think the Captain might have a few plans of her own. She doesn't need some hot shot ensign causing havoc," cautions Leonard. This is something that should be left to the professionals and some cadet who has dreams of grandeur is not it. God, he should have stayed home.

Leonard seems more tense and irritated than usual. Obviously captivity doesn't agree with. "She's dead, Bones. The Captain's dead," whispers Jim, and he wishes there was a gentler way to break that news.

Leonard's lips quivers slightly before his jaw tightens. A small hiss escapes his lips as he shifts his position minutely. The fact that he doesn't use his left arm at all concerns Jim, but what really fires him up is the small pool of blood that's settled underneath Leonard that was previously concealed by the angle of the doctor's leg.

Leonard can see the darkness flash in Jim's eyes as Jim notices it's more than tendon damage from a dislocated elbow Leonard had one of the science cadets pop back in for him. The good thing about a scalpel wound, is the tool cuts clean and is relatively sterile, which judging by their current accommodations and treatment could be the difference between death by gangrene and living. Even the bleeding's not so bad, all things considered.

Jim gets up on his knees, ready to spring up and intimately introduce one of their Romulan captors to his fists. Leonard's a doctor, how could anyone justify hurting him like this? Leonard grabs a hold of Jim's hand. It's warm, steady and Jim can't help but feel safe in its grip. They're hands that could show Jim a thing or two. He'd gladly play doctor with Leonard any day.

"Don't go doin' something stupid on my account," pleads Leonard, holding on for dear life. The last thing he needs is to watch a Romulan beat Jim to a pulp. Jim's destined for greater things than dying a captive on a ship commanded by a psycho Romulan that saw fit to randomly attack a research vessel.

Jim counters, "No one gets away with doing this to you."

Leonard lets out a morose huff. People have been gutting him his whole life, this is just the first time the wounds are externally visible. Christ, Jim does it to him every time Jim does something thoughtful or adorable that makes Leonard want to tear Jim's clothes off with his teeth, but can't because it would poison the friendship between them. "There are other people to think about- what's left of the crew. They're going to need you to save them, Jim. You can't get yourself killed over me."

Jim begs to differ. Leonard's the only person he'd gladly lay down his life for without question or hesitation.

"Promise me?" asks Leonard, looking Jim square in the eye. This isn't the time to go off half cocked. There are other people that could suffer because Jim's taking offence to Leonard's treatment. He's taking offence to his treatment too, but there's more at stake then Leonard's comfort. "Please."

"Fine," relents Jim. He'll worry about everyone else before he sets about retribution, but make no mistake, before Jim sets foot off this ship, every Romulan that's even looked funny at Leonard is going to regret the day they took the Troubadour.

* * *

An alarm on one of the consoles sounds breaking the tense silence of engineering. Both Otto and Kai look at the offending consol before sharply turning their accusatory glares at Scotty and Chekov. More so Scotty than Chekov since the kid is tied with his back to Scotty. Scotty looks aloof. The whole ship could fall apart around these scoundrels for all he cares, but he's taken excellent care of the Enterprise and doubts it's going to be a mechanical problem that derails their plans.

"What is it?" demands Kai.

"I couldn't begin to guess," says Scotty with a shrug. He knows exactly what the alarm is concerned about, but all of his goodwill was used up around hour five of being tied up.

"Try again," says Otto, pulling his knife and pressing it against Chekov's throat, eliciting a sharp hiss from the kid.

"It's a pressure sensor. If it builds up too fast the system requires a manual release. It's the third button from the left," relents Scotty.

Otto signals Kai to check it out but keeps his knife at the ready. These peons have been uncooperative from the start. There's nothing these inferiors can offer that outweighs their inconvenience. It's only under Khan's direction that Otto doesn't solve the problem here and now but if the engineer remains insubordinate he won't hesitate to make an example out of the curly haired kid.

Kai walks over to the consol and presses the blue flashing button. The computer chirps and a gentle hiss sounds somewhere further back in engineering. "It's taken care of," reports Kai, shouting back to Otto.

"How do we stop it from happening again?" demands Otto, getting right in Scotty's face.

Scotty pulls back as much as his bonds will let him. Honestly, it's nothing serious nor a regular occurrence, though he does wonder who shut off the automated regulator so the computer wouldn't handle the situation without crew involvement. He's about to open his mouth to make some dig about the Botany crew being ill-equipped to run a starship when something comes crashing down from above, landing on top of Kai.

Scotty can feel Chekov flinch behind him as Kai hits the floor with a thud, the clang of an access grate hitting the floor reverberating throughout the undermanned department. He's not the only one who's jaw gapes open in disbelief and wonder, Otto seems utterly dumbfounded as well.

"Oww," moans Jim with a cough as he rolls off of Kai. He'll be feeling that landing tomorrow; the augment wasn't quite the soft cushion he was hoping for. His vision swims in and out, like waves crawling up and down the shore line.

Kai's hand twitches next to Jim's prone body. There will be time to nurse injuries later, Jim can't waste a second of their confusion or his hard earned advantage will be lost. He grits his teeth and pulls his leg up, taking the hypo-injector out of his boot. Rolling over quickly, he stabs the hypo none too gently into Kai's neck. "Nighty-night, asshole," says Jim as he injects the contents.

Jim's victory is far too short lived as Otto wraps his large meaty paw around Jim's throat, lifting him off the ground until he's eye level with Otto. His feet kick and dangle but he can barely do more than scuff the ground with the tip of his boot.

Otto smiles as Jim chokes and gargles, desperate for air. "I should have done this the first time we met," snarls Otto with sickening delight as he pulls back his free hand and forms a fist.

Tears well in Jim's eyes as pain rattles around his skull like maracas. The pain starts in his right cheek, spreading rapidly as Otto gets in a couple more punches. It's getting hard to think, every punch turning the world to molasses. Jim claws at Otto's hand but it comes across as nothing more than an irritation like tiny mosquito bites on a giant elephant.

"Three hundred years and humanity is still week and feeble," spits Otto. His head snaps down as he feels the sharp prick of something against his side. His eyes follow the offending device to Jim's hand, up his arm and to Jim's Cheshire grinning face. The effect of the injection is almost instantaneous, Otto's limbs failing him as he crashes to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Jim unceremoniously falls to the ground too, rubbing his throat and gasping for air. "Yeah, but our medical advancements kick your ass," he says, clenching the injector tight to his chest. It's Leonard's break glass in emergency backup needle. Not as pleasant as a hypo but a lot harder for Jim to dismantle in the throes of an episode. Trust Leonard to have all the cool toys and drugs squirreled away to help Jim.

"Jim!" cheers Scotty. God it's good to see a familiar face, that isn't trussed up like a turkey.

Jim rolls his eyes. All his battered body wants to do is sleep for a year and he's barely made it through round one of this deadly game. He groans as he rolls over and gingerly gets to his feet. His hand and arm have that numb tingly feeling he's grown accustomed to when his shoulder is dislocated. One problem at a time. He hobbles over to Scotty and Chekov.

"It's good to see ya, laddie," greets Scotty, relief evident in his voice.

Jim gives a half hearted smile as he sets to work on releasing the pair from their restraints. It takes some fiddling but he manages to open the locks.

Chekov is the first to give Jim a tight embrace. "Jim," he says fondly. Jim bites his lip to keep a whimper from escaping. The kid's been through enough, he doesn't need to feel bad about crushing Jim's already aching shoulder.

Scotty kicks Otto in the leg, getting no response from the now sleeping mountain.

"Bones's top of the line sedatives," says Jim holding up the injector. "He'll be out for awhile. Trust me." Jim's had a lot of experience with Leonard's medicine cabinet. While the dosage would keep Jim down longer, it should be enough to keep these two out of the game for a couple of hours.

"Jim," says Scotty with a tremble in his voice and eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Jim shakes his head. He doesn't want Scotty's pity right now, doesn't want to hear condolences. If he does, it will make it real and Jim doesn't think he can do any of this if he focuses on the fact that Leonard's gone. There will be time for tears and mourning later. "Right now we have to stop them before they hurt anyone else," says Jim. Scotty and Chekov both advert their eyes. "What is it?" demands Jim; he knows avoidance when he sees it.

"They killed Roberts," says Scotty, sorrowfully. "Khan said he'll execute a member of the senior staff every day until they join him or there isn't anybody left." There's a heavy beaten down quality in the engineer's voice.

That throws a wrench in any plan Jim's going to come up with. There's enough pressure, he doesn't need a deadline on top of it. "He's going for quite the body count today," snaps Jim.

Scotty looks hesitant. "It's been two days, Jim. They killed Leonard two days ago."

"Two days?" says Jim feeling a little lost. Losing time somehow makes the wound of Leonard worse. That's two days of Khan going unpunished; two days where Leonard didn't cross Jim's mind because he was out cold in a Jefferies Tube.

"After they killed the doc, Khan's people gassed the crew. They secured most of the crew in crew quarters except for the senior staff. They revived us after locking us in the briefing room," explains Scotty.

There goes any chance of exploiting any disorganization on Khan's part. They've had two days to establish a foot hold and a routine. Jim was really hoping for some good news. "Anything else I should know," he says bitterly. So far he's several moves behind in this chess game.

"They're going to execute the Captain today," adds Chekov in the most demoralized voice Jim's ever heard.

"Perfect," huffs Jim. Scotty and Chekov share a glance. Jim's got a feeling he's not going to like this. Looks like they're going to break through the basement and discover a new level of rock bottom.

The pair have a silent debate about who is going to hammer the final nail in their coffin. "Yesterday we stopped at a planet and took aboard more of those crates Khan brought aboard. It's more of his crew he's planning on reviving," offers Scotty.

Reinforcements, great. Tangling with one is already worse than scrapping with a Klingon and now Khan's going to bolster his numbers. Jim doesn't have a final headcount on just how big the infestation is, but he knows they don't need more.

"What are we going to do?" asks Chekov.

Jim's got nothing beyond seeing the light fade from Khan's eyes. Priorities, they need control of the ship so they can free the crew. The odds will be greatly in their favour if they have the full might of the Enterprise compliment behind them. "We need to regain control of the ship. Chekov, do you think you can lock Khan out of the computer?"

Chekov hesitates a moment, looking at the nearest consol and worrying his lip. "I think I can do that."

"See what you can do, but don't let them know you're in the system," cautions Jim. "Scotty, if we can't retake control of the ship, we at least need to slow him down. Can you work on a back up to shut the engines down completely?" Jim continues.

"Aye," replies Scotty with a little more confidence than Chekov.

First things, first though, "Scotty, I'm going to need you to put my shoulder back in."

Scotty looks a little pale and petrified. "I don't know how to do that," he confesses, with a secret hope it will get him out of it.

"It's easy," insists Jim with a pained smile. "Just grab my hand and pull while pushing my shoulder with your other one." Leonard's done it many times, hell Jim's done it himself once or twice before but he needs to be sure it pops back in correctly if he has any hope of facing off against the augments.

"I really think you should get a doctor to do it," insists Scotty. He's an engineer, not a medical practitioner; he can put the warp core together all day long, but a person…

Jim places his good hand firmly on Scotty's shoulder. "Scotty, it has to be you. There is no one else." Isn't that the sad truth now.

Scotty squeaks, "It can't be that easy."

"Mine is," assures Jim in a steady and calm command voice he hasn't had to bust out in almost a decade.

Scotty looks helplessly at Chekov who steadfastly refuses to make eye contact with either Scotty or Jim. "Ach, alright!" relents Scotty. He grabs Jim's hand and pulls as directed. A sickening pop sounds right before a guttural howl echoes out of Jim as he drops to his knees.


	26. Chapter 26

The silence is never really silent. It's filled with wet coughs and ragged breathes encompassed by the stench of death. Hope has long since abandoned them, giving way to cruel acceptance of a most grisly fate. Waiting for death can be incredible tedious; the grim reaper seeming to be in no hurry to end their suffering.

Footsteps echo down the halls long before Nero's guards come into sight. Jim breathes a sigh of relief as they return Leonard, no worse for wear than when he left and that is the best they can hope for these days. The doctor is shoved back in their cell with the usual fanfare. He stumbles a little, but stays on his feet, turning a seething glare to the guards as they leave. It's an empty threat, the last defiance of the dying to not go willingly into the eternal embrace of darkness.

Leonard wearily stumbles to his makeshift bunk and flops down. Standing requires far more energy than he has anymore.

"What did they want?" asks Jim, poking his head over the edge of his bunk.

"A doctor," says Leonard bitterly. He sits at the edge of his bunk summoning the courage to force his aching and battered body to endure the pain of lying down.

"Anyone important?" asks Jim. It'd probably be too much to ask for Nero to be inflicted by some horrible disease that will ravage him and his people leaving what's left of the Troubadour crew alive and able to escape. He can dream through.

"Nope," huffs the doctor. "One of the helmsmen had a hangnail," he snarls through gritted teeth as he bites the bullet and slowly, with shaking limbs, adopts a prone position. It wasn't really a hangnail, more like a small gash but given the state of the Troubadour crew, it felt like treating a hangnail. Tending to Nero's men has become the only really doctoring he's allowed to do of late. Nero refuses to give him adequate supplies to treat the captives leaving Leonard only the resources he can steal.

"I don't know why you help them," criticizes Ensign Fowler from the bunk across from Jim and Leonard's. He glares at Leonard like he's something dirty or worse, something traitorous.

Leonard just lets out a sigh and fixes his eyes on the pipes running over his head that make up Jim's bed. He often asks himself the same question. None of the Romulan's lives are ever in danger, it's always superficial wounds and ailments that Nero goes through all the pomp and circumstance of having Leonard tend. Leonard sees it for the torture it is but still, he performs his duty. His soul isn't sale.

"After everything they've done to us, you should let them die, Doctor," hisses Fowler.

"Leave him alone," snaps Jim when no response from Leonard is forthcoming. They don't need to be turning on one another.

Leonard can't argue the sentiment. He thinks about it every time Ayel sees fit to beat Jim or any of them, but especially Jim. Ayel wouldn't be here to torture Jim, break his leg by stomping on it repeatedly, if Leonard hadn't performed a hasty operation at Nero's order in the first days of their captivity. Ayel would have died from injuries sustained in the attack on the Troubadour and the biggest monster unleashed on the survivors would be nothing more than a ghost story, however, they would have a bigger monster living among them.

Leonard thinks about this every single time and still he can't bring himself to refuse.

Fowler pulls himself up so he's sitting on his bunk. "Why? They don't leave us alone. If you're going to be a Romulan sympathizer, you should just join their ranks outright, Doctor."

"Enough," cautions Jim, noticing the rant is drawing attention from their fellow crewmen. Jim has his own designs to introduce a few of their guards to something pointy or blunt, depending on what makes itself available, but he knows Leonard would never. Leonard took an oath that he takes seriously with more conviction than Jim has ever seen in his whole life. It's simultaneously the most wonderful and most frustrating thing about Leonard. Leonard can no more not be the healer than Jim cannot be the smartass cocky shit looking to fight the current representation of the school yard bully.

"Enough? It's our duty as officers to resist the enemy and he's over there putting Band-Aids on their boo-boos while we bleed to death," accuses Fowler to the consensual murmurs of the crew.

Jim sits up throwing his aching leg over the edge of the bunk. It burns, waves of fire pulsating through it as the still mending bones grind against each other. Leonard set it as best he could, but it's faulty work without those medical supplies he keeps begging for and being denied. Leonard's gone quiet, but Jim's not going to sit idly by while his own people talk shit about someone who's doing everything possible to keep them alive. Jim can see the way each failure is slowly breaking Leonard, like it's the doctor's fault their captives are killing them slowly.

Jim's been sporting for a good fight for awhile, ever since he lost the ability to stand without help while his leg is broken. He'd rather fight a Romulan, but he'll settle for just protecting Leonard's honour.

Everyone perks up slightly, the smell of a fight brewing in the stale air. Everyone watches as Fowler and Jim glare at each other, each one silently daring the other to make the first declaration of intention.

"We have to be better than them," says Leonard, voice hoarse with disuse.

All eyes turn to Leonard's bunk. He's still laying there, almost uninterested in the turmoil growing around him.

"I took an oath to help people. It wasn't based on skin color, gender, species, or political affiliation, just to help the sick and injured. I don't get to play judge or jury and certainly not executioner. It's not my job to determine if a life is worth saving, no one has the right to make that judgment. If I do, if _we_ do, then we're no better than the people holding us now. Sure I could refuse, cite an eye for an eye, but refusal isn't going to temper Nero's hand. It will however cost me my soul and if we survive using those tactics, you'll find it will cost you yours as well," he elaborates, before rolling over to face the wall.

Everyone is quick to act disinterested, going back to their silent waiting in their own corners of this hell. Fowler waves it off before curling up on his bunk to chase sleep. Jim sits there thinking. He hasn't been blind to the fact that Nero is torturing Leonard, probably worst of all, without laying a finger on him. Day in and day out, they chip away at Leonard's soul and still Leonard won't sit by and let a life fade. He patches up Nero's crew knowing full well they'll go right back to torturing the Troubadour crew and still he heals them. Of course Nero threatens to hurt the captives if Leonard doesn't, but even without that clout hanging over Leonard's head, he'd still do it. He does it because Leonard is the real hero. Jim hopes he never sees the day when Leonard can cross that line.

* * *

Jim's getting too old for this. He remembers scrambling around ships being easier when he was still a cadet, and his leg and shoulder weren't constant problems. Unfortunately he doesn't have the luxury of stopping. He waits, curled up against an access grate, for the guard pacing habitat section eight to leave the section. He should have grabbed Leonard's entire medical bag. Not only does it have pain meds but all of Jim's medications- the kind he takes daily. He can hear the faint whispers he knows aren't there, calling him as the cold icy hands of things past reach out desperately to pull him under. He just has to keep it together long enough to kill Khan.

Seizing his chance, he climbs out of the Jefferies tube and approaches the door. "I'm here," he whispers pulling out his communicator. It takes a second for Chekov to override the lock, the door beeping compliance, opening to allow Jim entrance. He steps through, ducking in the nick of time as a bright blue vase comes hurtling at his head.

It smashes against the wall, pieces raining to the ground as the door slides shuts. "I told you to stay out," shrieks Chapel, grabbing the next nearest object to hurtle in Jim's direction.

"Whoa," yells Jim, raising his hands in surrender. "It's me, Christine, it's Jim."

"Jim?" she stammers, still holding the glass bowl over her shoulder.

"Yeah," agrees Jim, slowly standing up straight. He takes a cautious step towards her and then another until he's close enough to snatch the bowl out of her hands. The second he takes the improvised weapon, Christine wraps her arms around him sobbing.

Jim sets the bowl down on the side table and wraps his arms around her. He can feel the warmth of her tears soak through his shirt. "Are you okay?" he asks. He can feel her nod her head but she doesn't say anything. None of them are really okay, they just need to aim for functioning right now. Jim just needs to know these assholes weren't getting excessively rough with her. He takes a good look at her. With the exception of a dark bruise on her cheek, she seems to be unharmed.

"We need your help retaking the ship," says Jim.

Chapel looks slightly apprehensive. She's a nurse, she has no combat training and no skills that lend themselves to hostilities. "How can I possibly help?"

"We have a plan," says Jim, doing his best to sound confident.

"A plan?" asks Chapel.

Jim mulls the word over. It's less a plan and more of a vague notion in desperate need of a miracle. "We have an idea?" he says with a little less confidence.

Chapel looks hesitant to ask. "What part do I play in this idea?"

"I need some hypos and a lot of sedatives."

* * *

Jim collapses in the nearest chair he can find when he returns to engineering and rubs his aching leg. Going a couple rounds on the mat with Chekov is one thing, but climbing through tubes and tangling with terrorists is another. The intel was important and Chekov and Scotty's talents better suited in engineering so Jim just has to bear it. The constant ache that's growing louder and sharper is a reminder that he's not built for this anymore.

"Are you alright there, Jim?" asks Scotty, looking concerned.

"Yeah," says Jim. He's far from it, but there aren't a lot of options right now- keep fighting or lay down and die. Jim's never made things easy for himself and he's not about to start making things easy for anyone else either.

"You gonna make it?" presses the engineer. He can be scrappy if he needs to be, but retaking a starship is a lot out of his purview. Not to mention they're out numbered forty to three. They can't afford to lose anyone if they even have a snowball's chance in hell here.

"You don't know how strong you are until you have no other choice," sighs Jim, getting wearily to his feet. It's time to work smarter not harder. They can't physically out match their opponents so they're going to have to level the playing field. "Any chance there's any of that gas left they used on us?"

Scotty shakes his head. "It's not something we keep in abundant supply and it takes awhile to synthesize it."

Time isn't something that's on their side and Khan doesn't seem the sporting type to wait for them to get their shit together.

"What about an anesthetic?" suggests Chekov. "It's easily synthesized with the correct medical authorization." They both look at Jim expectantly.

Jim knows all of Leonard's codes. Not because Leonard has specifically told him, there are several regulations actually forbidding Leonard revealing them to Jim, but he hasn't actually gone out of his way to change them or overtly hide them when Jim hacks them for either sport in the throes of an episode. "No it's too risky. We have no idea how any of them will react or any impact it might have on the crew. And without someone from medical your guess would be as good as mine." There's countless species serving aboard the Enterprise, Jim just can't gamble with their lives like that. He's also not bringing in any medical personnel into this fight any more than absolutely necessary. "Do we have control of the computer yet?"

"I've managed to make a backdoor into several programs but Khan still has most systems locked. If I push too hard, it will alert them that someone is trying to retake the system and Khan will either shut us out before we gain control or know there is a problem," explains Chekov.

"We need a way to distract Khan," spitballs Jim, getting up to pace. He does some of his best thinking in motion, granted that motion is usually carrying him through an already enacted bad idea he needs out of.

"And neutralize his henchmen or we're done before we begin," throws out Scotty, because it's kind of a lynchpin to the whole thing.

"So far, they're all working in groups of two to three manning all key locations," reports Jim. The odds aren't impossible but given their superior strength, Jim would rather not have to take on more than one at a time

"Except for the bridge," adds Chekov. "Sensors indicate they keep four to eight people on the bridge."

Scotty shares a look of distain with Jim. "You can bet one of them will be Khan."

"There's three guarding the senior staff and anyone they deem trouble at all times in briefing room five," informs Scotty. He was there with them until Khan decided his people needed a modern engineer to show them the ropes in engineering. "The rest of the crew are locked in their quarters."

"Wait," says Jim, looking perplexed. "If Khan's gone to all the trouble of sorting the crew, why doesn't he know I wasn't accounted for?" Not to toot his own horn but being the whole bases for Khan's superiority rant seems like Jim would matter enough to be part of the head count, for gloating purposes at least.

Scotty shrugs. "He sent Uhura and Sulu around to do a head count with that Joaquin fella; make sure everyone was secure in their quarters or rounded up to see Khan. Uhura reported you were in your quarters."

"I wasn't," corrects Jim. "I was in the Jefferies tubes when the gas was released."

"Clearly the lass lied."

Thank god for small favors and Uhura's steadfast resolve. The only problem is, when the truth comes out, Uhura is going to be the prime target.

"Why don't we just free the crew?" asks Chekov, "the numbers will be in our favor then."

"Because that'll lead to mass casualties. I doubt the Botany crew will go quietly. And you know Khan has a backup plan if he thinks he's losing the ship. Plus anything that's noticeable and time consuming will just give him the opportunity to execute the senior staff. We need either quiet or quick subterfuge. Divide and conquer if we want our ship and people in one piece."

"How are we supposed to divide them? They seem pretty committed to their cause and we're no match physically."

"Do we have transporters?" asks Jim. That could make life so much easier. They could simply beam their asses into the brig and avoid the whole combat part of their hostile takeover.

"No. Khan has that locked up tight under his own personal command code. I need bridge access to regain control of the systems he's locked down under his personal authorization," apologizes Chekov. He's good at this but it's not exactly his area of expertise. If only they had the Captain who could probably recode the whole system with one hand in the dark.

"Force fields?" throws out Jim, though it's a long shot. Chekov shakes his head.

"And we need to stop Khan from waking up any more of his people," reminds Scotty, because there's no point taking out the goons if Khan can just turn around and unleash more faster than they can probably take them out. Really, this situation doesn't look like something they can get on top of.

Jim frowns. "Back to the distraction." He needs something that's more important than staying in control or the ship itself. Jim's really good at getting unwanted attention but as much as Khan seems to want to strangle the life out him, Jim hasn't been that big a of a pain that Khan would throw everything away just to come after him- yet. "Are the stasis pods air tight?"

"Yes. They are made to protect the occupant from all elements," says Chekov.

"And save the Captain," adds Scotty. They're drowning here; there's too many balls in the air and none of them are jugglers.

Like Jim could forget. "Any more problems you want to remind me of?" asks Jim tiredly. It's been so long since he felt the pressure of command, he's forgotten how consuming it is. Now that they're here and all eyes are looking to him, he doesn't feel like he's up to it. The last time ended so badly; he doesn't want to see the disappointment on his friends' faces if he can't turn this into a win for them.

Scotty looks like he has something to say but closes his mouth.

"Anyone have any good news?" asks Jim. They really need a win right now. Getting a few hypos to help them knock out some of Khan's crew can't be the best they have right now.

"I have engineering rigged to eject the warp core. If those bastards try to retake engineering, the ship won't be any good to them after," announces Scotty with a little pride. His lovely lady isn't going to work for just anyone anymore.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. We're a long way from home." It's a card Jim could use to make Khan fold but being stranded isn't necessarily any better than hostage in the vastness of space. "I've figured out when and how they're planning to kill the Captain."

Chekov and Scotty look a little more interested and largely more fearful.

"They take whoever they're making an example of to sickbay and stuff them in the decompression chamber to suffocate." The revelation casts a grim silence over the trio. It's a horrible way to go. It makes Jim a little sick to think of Leonard's sickbay being used as a place of execution. But there goes Khan, pouring salt into an already gaping and festering wound. "Scotty, you and I will go free the Captain as they escort him to sickbay. Chekov you'll head to the bridge and wait for Spock and Scotty and then when Khan leaves, you'll take the bridge. And Chekov, I could really use transporters."

"How are we going to save the Captain? And then how are we going to take the bridge?" rambles Scotty, concerned. They have few resources and so much to lose if they fail and the mountain is enormous.

"I brought presents," says Jim triumphantly, holding up several phasers and bag full of hypos with a huge smile. "I'm going to need you to activate this protocol just before we take the bridge," adds Jim punching in a code and handing the PADD over to Chekov.

The kid scrutinizes the code and the protocol. "Aye, but what is it, Jim?"

It's a legacy, a remnant of privileged information that Jim hasn't forgotten. Jim may not be in command but he remembers the protocols and all the ways Leonard actually has as much if not more power than the captain. It's a little tidbit of rarely enacted command knowledge, something he highly doubts Khan took the time to learn or care about. "It's a medical override code that only captains, first officers and CMOs have. It locks down the ship in case of quarantine situation. This code allows them to use another code to move around the ship with help while keeping everyone else contained. Khan's probably smart enough to have an override but it should keep the rest of them contained until we take the bridge and free the crew. That just leaves me with Khan," says Jim with a dangerous smile.

"What are you going to do?" asks Scotty getting an uneasy feeling. He's seen that look before and the ending is never good.

"I'm going to lure him to the cargo bay."

Scotty doesn't want to ask, but he has to know, "How are you going to do that?"

"By threatening what matters most to him. . . his family."

* * *

Scotty crawls along behind Jim as they make their way through the Jefferies tubes. He can tell from the sharp breath and stiff movements that Jim's hurting. Slightly more alarming is the way Jim keeps looking off into the distance like there's something or someone there. They're not exactly the command A-team here. Sure Scotty can perform miracles but his are of the building and repair variety not the tactical kind at least not as far as an enemy like Khan who has so far been two steps ahead of them is concerned.

It's hard to ignore the nervous anxious flutter in his gut that grows with every junction they pass. The corridor Jim's planning on ambushing the escort is quickly coming up and Scotty can't help but feel they're not ready for it.

It's hand over hand, knees shuffling across the cool metal grating. A tiredness is settling in Jim. All this intel gathering has waned the initial flood of adrenaline that fueled Jim when he first heard Khan's voice over the comms threatening Leonard. Anger is a poor substitute but it will have to do; he can't burn out yet. He can practically hear Leonard chastising him with sexy frown.

" _You shouldn't be putting that much strain on your leg. You'll regret it in the morning_."

Khan has no idea the mistake he made when he killed Leonard. Leonard was the only safeguard keeping Jim from giving a hundred and ten percent against the terrorist. Without Leonard, Jim's really not concerned with tomorrow or the next day.

" _Just what do you think you're going to do when you confront Khan_?"

"Whatever it takes," answers Jim.

"Whatever what takes?" asks Scotty, looking like he missed something.

" _Jim, can you come here a minute_?" yells Leonard from somewhere outside.

Jim's really not in the mood for anything that doesn't resemble sulking in their bedroom or as Jim would rather call it dramatic hibernation because he's not exactly a sullen teenager anymore. He grabs his baggy sweatshirt which is actually one of Leonard's old medical school shirts that he absconded somehow in the first three months of sharing a dorm and hasn't returned for the last six years. Leonard's never asked for it back and since possession is nine tenths the law, Jim's going to claim property rights.

It's dusk on a relatively warm night on the tail end of summer, hardly worthy of anything more than a basic t-shirt but the sweatshirt has become an old habit. First, people assume he went to Old Miss by virtue of the green letter advertising and second it makes Jim look smaller, lost in the excess fabric that he never quite filled out the same way Leonard did, but looks even bigger on Jim than usual these days. The property around the farmhouse is pretty secluded to begin with, the nearest neighbor a mile or so away so it's not like the neighbors are going to see him when he steps out of the house. It still feels safer to play the anonymity card. More importantly, the worn and bagged out sweatshirt has become a security blanket. It smells like Leonard, like home.

Jim does a preliminary search of the main floor, hoping it's some weird echo that's placed Leonard outside, but alas he's not in the house. Jim could go back upstairs and fain ignorance. Leonard knows Jim's lack lustre enthusiasm for all things outdoors lately and his flirtation with agoraphobia, so he wouldn't ask if it wasn't somewhat important. Begrudgingly Jim slips his boots on and traipse out the back door.

It's brighter outside than in the house, even if it twilight. Natural light just has a way of illuminating the world in away artificial light hasn't mastered completely.

Jim chews on his lip. Leonard's not on the porch that wraps its way along the back of the house. He searches the yard with his eyes until he catches a glimpse of Leonard's mop hair over the rail of the gazebo. Indulging in a huff, Jim hobbles down the stairs and storms across the yard. If he has to be somewhere he doesn't want to be, he's damn well going to make it miserable for everyone else too.

"There you are," says Leonard distractedly as he fiddles with something on the railing.

Jim crosses his arms. "Here I am," he huffs, like he has something better to do or somewhere to be.

Leonard rolls his eyes. He deals with a teenage girl all every summer, anything Jim wants to lob at him is water off a ducks back at this point. "Come here, I want to show you something," he says in his most endearing voice, extending his hand to help Jim up the three steps to the gazebo.

Jim glares, refusing to accept the hand, instead he uses the smooth wood railing to help pull himself up the steps. "I've seen the gazebo," he says stomping to the center. He's stayed mostly in the house since they moved here, but he did tour the property when they made the purchase. There's nothing out in the world he wants right now. Why can't Leonard just let him be miserable all by himself?

The gazebo isn't quite like how it was when they bought the property. There's wiring tangled all around the wood rafters. "What's all this?" snaps Jim. He doesn't know what Leonard's trying to do out here but he should probably stick to medicine and not venture any further into engineering.

Leonard hits the on switch and the messy wiring lights up with thousands of little twinkling lights. "There's only room for one old curmudgeon on this farm," he says simply as Jim looks up in wonder. It's grown dark enough outside that the lights shine brightly against the darkening sky under the exposed openings in the gazebo roof.

"Wow."

"If you can't go to space, I thought I'd bring the universe to you," Leonard says triumphantly.

Jim stands there a moment, turning slowly as he looks up at what Leonard has made. He's not only manages to make it look like a starry night but the doctor has formed constellations out of the string lights too. It's breathtakingly amazing. He looks at Leonard. "You hate space." Leonard's put a tremendous amount of work into this, the amount of work that demands someone enjoy it and what if Jim refused to come out here.

"But you don't." Leonard steps up to Jim and wraps his harms around him, nuzzling his face in Jim's neck as he pulls Jim's back tight to his chest. "Happy anniversary," he whispers as he starts to sway gently in a box step pattern.

"It's not our anniversary," corrects Jim, getting lost in Leonard's gentle rhythm.

"No. No it's not," agrees Leonard. After everything, everyday is a note worth occasion as long as he has Jim in his arms. "Happy Wednesday."

"You got me a whole universe and I didn't get you anything."

"You are my universe, Jim."

" _Don't do anything stupid, Jim_ ," whispers Leonard.

"Jim."

"Jim?" presses Scotty.

"Jim!" the engineer hisses as loud as he dares. The footsteps are starting to echo down the empty corridor signaling Spock and his hangmen are making their way there.

Jim blinks. He blinks again, the tube slowly coming back into focus and as it does the warm feeling of Leonard's embrace fades more and more.

"Where'd you go Jim?"

"It doesn't matter," says Jim bitterly. He's never going to get back there again. he just has to keep it together a little while longer. "Let's get this done."

* * *

Spock marches along with his escort. Vulcans lack emotions, even when faced with death. It's the one moment they are the envy of every other species; to feel nothing in an emotional apex. Spock just wishes he felt something other than regret. A life lived logically should have no regret and yet, it's not perusing the illogical that has left him wishing he had. Now that the end is near, there is no argument that can produce a satisfactory answer to why he did not choose Nyota. Having Vulcan children and continuing the species, perusing a career in Starfleet to experience new discoveries and advancements no longer seem like the optimal use of his life.

As every step brings him closer to an unpleasant end, he realizes why it is his father loved his mother. As an emotional human who aimed to instill such quality in her child in an emotional barren waste land, Spock never understood the logic of their union. He could understand the benefits from his father's perspective, but failed to see how they outweighed his mother's constant humanism. Since his mother was often frustrated with his father and his cold logic, he chalked her commitment to their union as a byproduct of irrational emotions. Now he can understand the mysticism in it. He'd relish the opportunity to tell Nyota he loves her one last time.

Step.

Another foot further from her warm embrace.

Step.

Even further from looking into those bright brown eyes that say more than all the words at her disposal.

Step.

One more closer to breaking her heart all over again.

Step.

Even closer to failing her completely.

Step.

Crashing heap of limbs and tangled bodies.

Spock stops and stares along with one of his executioners. The other guard is in the mess on the floor with what looks like Spock's chief engineer and of all people Jim Kirk- who has the amazing ability of being both surprising and predictable. The surprise sneak attack from behind not only takes down one of the guards as the three of them wrestle on the ground for domination but gives Spock the distraction to he needs to take a step back behind Khan's man and implement a nerve pinch rendering him unconscious with ease. Scotty and Jim appear to be having a little more trouble subduing Keto.

Scotty groans as the trio begins to roll, fighting for top position. Not only does he have Jim's weight on top of him as he ends up on the bottom, but Keto's immense form as well. To make matters worse, Jim drives his elbow into Scotty's gut by mistake, causing Scotty to let go of his loaded hypo. It clangs to the ground and skitters across the floor as someone's leg collides with it.

Keto's hand finds its way around Jim's neck, locking on tight and squeezing. Jim's hands shoot to his neck, clawing and scratching at Keto's hand, desperate to loosen the fingers that are tightening like a noose. Scotty tries to reach around from under Keto to pull at his arm but being pinned underneath the dog pile doesn't give him the room to gain any leverage to help.

Jim tries to pull they hypo from his belt while using his other hand to keep Keto from crushing his windpipe. Lack of oxygen is making his hand tremble, he gasps desperate for that sweet breath.

Keto's eyes narrow in on Jim's hand and the shiny device clutched tightly in his fingers. He squeezes harder; the audacity of these mice, that think they can compete with gods. It's almost comical how easy it is to rip the device out of the invalid's hand. He pauses for a moment to consider injecting Jim with the very thing he saw fit to taint him with but the satisfaction of snuffing out Jim's life with his bare hands is far too great. Keto crushes the hypo in front of Jim, a preview of what he has in store for Jim.

Jim uses his right hand to punch and hit anything within reach. His best hope for subduing the terrorist is gone. If he can hit Keto in a soft spot it might be enough to get him to let go before the grey dancing around Jim's vision envelopes him completely.

Spock waits for his opening, a clear shot at Keto's exposed shoulder. He slips his hand through the tangle of limbs and erratic punches rendering Keto as useless as his partner. Jim slumps to the floor gasping for breath as Scotty kicks and shoves the unconscious body off of himself.

Scotty's the first to his feet, pulling his wrinkled uniform shirt straight. "It's good to see ya, Captain." The relief is written plainly on his face.

"You've really got to show me that," wheezes Jim, picking himself off the floor.

Spock raises an eyebrow. Humans seem endlessly fascinated with the maneuver yet never possess the precision to execute it. "What is the ship's status?"

"Khan's still firmly in control," reports Jim, peering around the corner to make sure their scuffle didn't draw any unwanted attention.

"We must…" starts Spock.

"I'm going to stop you there," interrupts Jim. "I know you're the Captain and all but we're kinda in the middle of a plan right now and it's a little time sensitive."

Spock looks at the two Botany crew members unconscious on the floor by his own hand rather than Jim and Scotty's then back at Jim in disbelief. Whatever scheme Jim has put together, it seems to have a few hiccups that need to be ironed out.

Jim picks up the phaser that fell out of his boot when he and Scotty tackled Keto and shoves it into Spock's hands. "I need you to save the ship by retaking the bridge with Scotty."

Spock takes the phaser. It seems odd that someone with Jim's reputation wouldn't want to be on the front lines even if he is technically no longer a member of Starfleet. Human are also predisposed to take pleasure in avenging loved ones. For Jim to pass the job onto someone else is most troubling.

"It will be fine. I'm going to get Khan off the bridge and you'll just have to take care of the others," says Jim already starting to hastily walk away before Spock can ask too many questions or talk him out of going.

"Jim," calls Scotty, running to catch up to him. There's resignation and sadness in his eyes.

Jim stops, closing his eyes. He doesn't want to have this conversation; he's tired.

"Jim," says Scotty again, a little softer as he catches up to his friend. He's been so preoccupied with their impending doom, the particulars of Jim's plan escaped him until know. "The contamination protocol is going to shut down the transporters and lock all the doors," says Scotty. The meaning is implied in the concerned and cautionary tone in his voice. If Jim gets locked in the cargo bay with Khan… he shudders to think.

Jim kind of figured that. If it comes to it, it comes to it, but there's still a lot of time left on the clock for a hail Mary. Jim fixes the biggest, cockiest smile he can muster and prays how he really feels isn't visible in his eyes. "It'll be fine," he assures. He claps Scotty on the shoulder. "You take care of yourself," he says; goodbye would sound too final.

"Aye," says Scotty, tears coming to his eyes. He hands Jim the communicator he grabbed from engineering. "Godspeed laddie." He stands there as Jim hurries towards the cargo, leaving Spock and him with the task seeing the plan through.

"Right, we need to get to the bridge and wait for the signal," says Scotty.

"There is something we must do first," says Spock heading in the opposite direction.

Scotty stands there for a moment gaping. "But the plan," he protests. "We'll miss the signal." Spock keeps going undeterred by Scotty's concern. Stubborn people are going to be the end of him. "Alright," he relents, giving in and chasing after his Captain, "but we need to be quick about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I reply to all the comments but for some reason there were a couple on the last chapter that wouldn't accept my replies. Not sure if the glitch is online or specific to my computer but instead of continuing to fight with it, I decided to offer my apologies if I didn't reply to you and post the chapter. The chapter's what you really want anyways lol.


	27. Chapter 27

"This is a bad idea," protests Scotty. Spock just gives him a bland look and moves into position. This whole operation is crazy why push their luck with adding more death defying rescues in the mix. Scotty raises his phaser and waits for Spock to open the door to briefing room five.

"If we are planning on retaking the bridge, we are going to need help," reminds Spock. It's only logical and yet, Spock fears it is not the main reason he's here. He punches his override code into the door. It slides open, taking the very large and angry looking augment by surprise. Spock drops his head and plows into the man's bulk form using his shoulder and the element of surprise to knock the augment down.

Once in the door Spock fires at one of the guards. He staggers under the hit, but does not succumb. Instead the guard takes refuge behind Sulu and the chair he's currently restrained to. The other guard moves to join the fight but Uhura turns her foot out from the leg of her chair. Tripping, the guard falls into Spock's arms where the Vulcan is able to apply a game ending nerve pinch.

Scotty's hot on Spock's heels, using his angle to fire on the guard who's using Sulu like a shield.

The augment gives an evil smile, the stun blast barely registering. He stands up to his full mountainous height and pushes Sulu's chair out of the way, stomping towards Scotty like an unstoppable avalanche.

Scotty fires again, and again, backing up each time it fails to render the target unconscious. Scotty keeps pressing the trigger but eventually his back hits the wall. He swallows audibly as the guard wraps his enormous hand around Scotty's, ripping the phaser away and tossing it over his shoulder. He raises his hefty fist and Scotty closes his eyes in anticipation of the impact that's likely to do him what the phaser failed to do to the guard.

Instead the guard lets out a pained yelp and crumples to the floor; Spock's latest victim. Scotty cautiously opens his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. "That's a neat trick you got there. You should teach it to me some time," marvels Scotty.

Spock gives him a look that suggests neither has the patience for that lesson, before moving to Uhura's side. He quickly begins removing her restraints. Scotty sees to releasing the rest of the senior staff.

"Took you long enough," says Uhura, relieved to be seeing Spock once again. She thought for sure she was never going to be able to look into those eyes that say more than Spock could ever vocalize, again. The bindings holding her down fall to the floor and she immediately stands up. Her hands find Spock's.

Spock looks into her eyes and something just feels right. "Are you unharmed," he asks instead of offering a display of affection humans are often eager to share.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she says, resting her forehead against his chest. She could be content to just let Spock hold her for the rest of her life.

Scotty clears his throat. Both Uhura and Spock look at him taking a step away from one another, remembering they are in the presence of others. "We have a bridge to retake," reminds Scotty sheepishly. At least now they have larger numbers to try and take these guys down.

Spock hands his phaser to Uhura and leads the senior staff down the corridor and toward the bridge.

* * *

Jim pulls his communicator out initiating a ship wide call. "This is James T Kirk," echoes down every corridor and crevasse of the ship. Jim can picture the momentary shock on the bridge as the Botany crew has the epiphany that they're perfect plan is about to experience a speed bump. "I'm going to blow the hatch to the cargo bay and jettison half your crew into space unless you stop me, Khan. You took my family away from me, I'm going to damn well take yours from you, you son of a bitch," snarls Jim before terminating the comm.

Thank god Chekov's bright; the kid understands the signal and almost immediately the lights dim down to alert yellow. Doors all over the ship slide shut and lock under new restrictive codes transforming the ship into a maze with no open routes but to only a few people.

"Khan made it off the bridge before I could lock it down completely," apologizes Chekov over Jim's comm.

A sad smile paints Jim's face. Chekov is going to make one hell of an officer that's going to earn a command of his own one day, if he just has a little more faith in his abilities and stops acting like he's letting everyone down. Jim wishes he could see that day; be the admiral that places that last pip on his collar, shakes his hand and wishes him well on his maiden voyage. Yet another dream that's tragically cut short for Jim. "You did good, Chekov. That's what I was banking on."

"But…" says Chekov like he wants to point out an obvious flaw in Jim's well crafted plan, but then stops.

The silence hangs in the air and Jim knows the kid's too bright to miss what's being spelled out. He can practically hearing the wheels turning.

" _Jim,_ " pleads Chekov in a tight, quiet voice filled with that harsh restrain of sorrow.

Jim's fingers tighten around his communicator. Chekov's one of those people with a sunny disposition that's untainted by the harsh realities of the universe; a tender soul that death and despair haven't been cruel enough to touch. Jim on the other hand was born in the shadow of tragedy, cradled in death's arms as he made his first appearance in this universe. He's been misfortune's dumping ground for so long, he's forgotten that there are unicorns like Chekov out there that haven't come out of the happy fairy tale yet. Jim hates that he's probably going to be the kid's first real loss, the realization that sometimes the good guys don't make it home even when they win. Jim's always been kind of a bastard and a shitty teacher.

"Just make sure Spock and Scotty take the bridge," says Jim with the same vigour and swagger he beings to every sparring session. He clicks his communicator closed; there's no point in drawing it out and they both have jobs to do.

Jim punches in Leonard's code. The lock on the cargo bay door flashes green, granting him entrance inside. Jim steps through quickly, the door eager to relock and keep the alleged contamination contained.

The cargo bay is haunted, the emergency lighting doing it no favours. There's a chill in the air, one that can't be explained away by a malfunction in climate control. Spread out along the cargo bay floor stacked two high are the recently retrieved collection of cryo pods that look more like coffins than protectors of life. Jim supposes they are: coffins for the living that will never experience life again. What's worse, the part that makes Jim feel gutted and small, is this is the place where Leonard spent his last moments.

He can picture Leonard standing there, tall and unapologetic, a healthy dose of irritation manipulating his handsome features because only Leonard could show irritation at being a hostage. Jim's a little jealous that Leonard's last words uttered to Spock in a bid to protect the ship, but Leonard's always been remarkable brave and selfless. A divine definition of grace under pressure.

There's a certain bitter irony in that the man that spent their entire relationship making sure Jim didn't do something foolish or brave to get himself killed is the one that got himself killed being brave and selfless. It almost makes it fitting that the final stand takes place here. Jim just prays he gets to see the moment Khan realizes the end has come the same way he must have seen Leonard realize it.

"Computer, begin sequence to open the cargo bay hatch," orders Jim.

The computer chirps confirmation as the warning lights begin to flash and declares, "Ten minutes until cargo bay doors open. Please clear the cargo bay."

Jim takes position and waits for Khan to appear. He doesn't have to wait long.

Khan bursts through the door like a ravenous animal that had to chase its prey through the gauntlet. Jim's pissed off his fair share of people, but this is the darkest fury he's ever seen directed at him personally. Every line of Khan's body screams his desires to snap Jim like a twig and then use the splinters to start a fire that will burn the world down.

Jim levels his phaser and fires. The blast hits the control panel mere inches from Khan's head raining down a shower of sparks and releasing a cloud of smoke.

Khan smiles like he's unsurprised, his composure returning now that smiting the piss ant that dares threaten his family is in reach. "You missed," he declares, not that a phaser set to anything other than kill would even slow his pace. This is going to be too easy.

Jim shrugs helplessly and tosses the phaser over his shoulder. "Would have taken the fun out of this anyways."

Khan charges forward like a bull, slamming into Jim and driving him hard into the stack of cryo tubes behind him. Jim gasps, the breath knocked out of him and crumples to the floor as Khan steps back. Khan paces a few steps back and forth before slamming his foot deep and hard into Jim's side.

Jim cries out as a rib or two give under the pressure.

"You are as weak as your doctor," taunts Khan, bringing his foot back to execute another kick.

Jim grits his teeth, anger taking away the pain as he rolls out of the way, popping up to issue a right hook of his own. He makes contact with Khan's jaw, the augments head twisting to the side slightly. Pain explodes in his hand so bad that Jim wonders whether he hit Khan or Khan's jaw hit him. He grabs a tool kit left lying on one of the crates and swings it at the other side of Khan's face with everything he has.

Anyone else would be on the floor out cold, but Khan just glares back at Jim, wiping away the drop of blood that dares to run from his nose. "Is this the best you can do?" demands Khan, with an over confident rumble in his voice.

God Jim hopes not. Khan's barely sporting a scratch but that small insignificant drop of blood is still satisfying as hell. "I'm just getting started," insists Jim and he almost believes the lie himself.

They chase after each other, spinning in circles, delivering blows against one another as the world blurs around them like on a merry go round. Most of Jim's moves are defensive, Khan faster, stronger, with better balance. Every hit Jim does earn doesn't come without a hefty price. Hitting Khan is like hitting a flesh covered metal frame. Taking a hit is like having a shuttle drop on him.

Khan catches Jim on the chin, the impact vibrating along his jaw and rattling his skull. Jim's vision swims and his stomach rolls. Out of the corner of his eye in the swirling darkness he catches a glimpse of pointy ears, scurrying around like rats.

Blood's splattered on Khan's face like war paint. The intricate lines of blood running over his features like Romulan design aren't Khan's blood but Jim's as Khan rams his fist against Jim's nose.

Tears explode in Jim's eyes, a pain so hot and fierce flowing from his nose like lava. His ears ring with a buzz that slowly turns into Nero's laughter. Khan shoves Jim. He topples backwards unable to keep his feet underneath him.

Nero scrambles over to Jim. Skittering out from the shadows and getting down on his hands and knees so he's right in Jim's face. "After I'm done with you, I'm going to make that doctor of yours my new favourite play thing," whispers Nero with that self-satisfied smirk that promises he'll make good on his threat. It probably says something about how broken Jim was before Nero ever laid a finger on him that that's what fortifies Jim's will to live through every depraved and sadistic thing Nero can dish out.

"The human race is broken if you're the best it has to offer." It sounds nothing like Nero. The Romulan bastard doesn't give two shits about humans when the Vulcans are still sitting pretty. Jim blinks the blurry image of Nero away, the yellowish warning lights of the Enterprise not that great of an upgrade from the darkened green lighting of the Narada.

Now is not the time to get lost. Though if he has to fade away, his brain could at least do him the courtesy of picking a time and place where a megalomaniac isn't trying to kill him.

Khan's on top of him, his legs pinning Jim down as he twists his hand tight into the fabric of Jim's shirt using the knot he creates to hoist Jim's head and shoulders off the ground. Any thoughts of Nero are firmly knocked out of his head by the unrelenting ferocity of Khan's fist.

The world's spinning like a snowball tumbling down a hill, every new bump and bruise eliciting a new level of pain as they build off of the previous wounds. There's blood on the deck and everything else in a two foot radius from Jim and Khan's impressive wing span as he pulls his deadly fist back for maximum velocity. The flecks splatter on impact, dripping from Khan's knuckles as he pulls back to do it again. "Do you really think such bleeding hearts like you could change the trajectory of my inevitable victory?" spits Khan, looking disgusted at even having to dirty himself with dealing with Jim. None of them have the fortitude to touch his greatness which is not only his birthright but something only the lion in a flock of sheep would think to take.

"It only takes one match," coughs Jim around a mouthful of blood and what feels to be a molar, "to make and explosion." He smiles, a mess of blood stained teeth and victory.

Khan pauses for a moment to decide if Jim is stupid enough to think he's wining or delusional enough to believe something will be gained here. "Did you really think _you_ could beat _me_?"

"No," replies Jim, because that wasn't in the cards, not after Leonard. "I just had to distract you for ten minutes."

Khan's head snaps towards the cargo bay hatch as the sound of the locks and gears disengaging and activating in turn sing out their movements. He quickly glances back to the door, the only thing that can save them from a room that's about to be exposed to cold hard space, and to the control panel Jim blasted the second Khan entered. Looks like Jim didn't miss his mark after all. The access panel is fried making door access from this side useless. Jim has essentially locked them in the cargo bay.

"I win," laughs Jim. It's kind of manic, bubbling up from the depths of his soul and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he gets the joke.

The hissing of the air slowly being pulled out of the room by environmental controls for decompression drowns out Jim's laughter. He tries not to think about what the last seconds of his life are going to be like; the air getting thinner until the cargo bay hatch can open and then the cold void of space. He was born among the stars, it's rather poetic in a universal symmetry sort of way that this is where he's come to die.

At least the ship is safe.

And without Khan running around, the Botany crew is under lockdown with everyone else making it easier for Spock and company to round them up and lock them somewhere permanent.

Jim closes his eyes and thinks of Leonard; the grinding of gears pulling the cargo bay hatch open playing in the background like a funeral march. It's over quickly, the seal barely broken when a force field erects itself keeping space and the precious oxygen of the ship safely in their respective corners- at least for the moment. The field crackles and ripples on the verge of failure, they system still suffering from Khan's influence. Chekov pulls miracles out of his ass the way Jim pulls lives.

"Warning, force field integrity compromised. Please evacuate immediately," warns the computer.

Khan releases Jim's shirt and wraps his large hands around Jim's throat. "You won't get to see it," he warns as he starts to squeeze.

Jim gasps, desperate for breath, his fingers ineffectively clawing at Khan's hands and arms. Really, by strangulation or space, he's going to suffocate either way, but instinct kicks in fuelled by some desire to not die by Khan's hand or before the bastard. It's a futile effort. Jim's hits turn to slaps and then to noting more than taps as his vision starts to gray and darken.

Jim's hands slowly fall to his side, and so does Khan, with a clang that rings through the room like a klaxon alarm. Jim coughs and sputters trying to sate his starving lungs with sweet delicious air. Khan's dead weight pressing down on him isn't helping the situation, nor is what's probably a broken rib or two, and what feels suspiciously like a broken nose. He manages to roll Khan off of him and looks up.

Jim's eyes widen. His brain short-circuits leaving his mouth gaping. "Bones!" he yells. Leonard's standing there, a little rumpled and a large metal wrench swung over his shoulder like a baseball bat. It's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

Leonard drops the wrench beside the unconscious augment. For all Khan's genetic advancements they clearly didn't come up with the perfect genetic sequence against hard metal objects to the head. "Can't leave you alone for a minute," scolds Leonard as he pulls Jim to his feet.

"I think he broke my face," exclaims Jim. It's not eloquent or a profound declaration of his undying love or anything remotely close to what Jim imagined he would say to Leonard if he ever got the chance again. It's probably shock and oxygen deprivation's fault.

Leonard scowls as he looks at the bruising already displaying its colourful wings on his lover's face. "I can see from here he did."

Jim just stands there. The split lip, beaten flesh, broken bones and tight itch from drying blood all fade away to nothing as he watches Leonard's eyes scrutinize every inch of Jim in that overly obsessive medical cataloguing way that Leonard can't help but default to. It makes Jim just want to wrap himself in those arms like a favourite blanket. "How? Why?" he manages mumble, his brain still desperate to find out if this is reality or some ghostly visage come to ferry him to the afterlife.

Leonard shrugs. "One minute I'm staring down a phaser and the next thing I know I'm waking up in a malfunctioning cryo tube and that psycho is beating on my husband," he says absently, like Jim's more important than anything that happened to him. If he only knew.

Leonard puts his hands on Jim's face, gently tipping his head to the side to get a better look at the damage. They're so warm and gentle- definitely not a ghost. Jim just wants to melt into that touch, fuse his soul with Leonard's and never let go.

A whimper escapes Jim. Not from pain but relief. "I thought you were dead," he mewls.

"What part of your plan was this?" criticizes Leonard in a soft nonjudgmental tone he usually saves for Joanna. Jim's here alone and beaten to hell, it doesn't exactly screaming winning. He's kind of afraid to ask just what Jim's end goal was here today.

Jim just rolls his eyes. Leonard's mother henning is the most beautiful sound and he'd gladly listen to it all day if they had the time.

"Warning. Force field integrity is failing," advises the computer.

The force field along the cargo bay door crackles and shimmers as it starts to lose stability. Whatever magic Chekov implemented, it's not going to hold forever. Both he and Leonard can't help but stare at the only thing keeping them from the harsh embrace of space that's threatening to collapse. "How long can you hold your breath?" asks Jim, already a little breathless from his efforts to distract Khan.

"You've got to be kidding me!" complains Leonard. He looks towards the door.

"It's fried. Can't open it from this side. Take a bit of work for someone to open it from the other side if there was anyone to help," apologises Jim.

"Transporters?"

Jim shakes his head regretfully.

"That's just typical."

If Jim had known this was a possibility, he would have worked in an escape plan. Still, as final moments go, he couldn't ask for any better. He reaches over and takes Leonard's hand. Leonard looks at him, squeezing back. They don't need words, just feeling the warmth of the other at the end is enough. "Wait," says Jim, his eyes going wide before he starts to jog towards the storage compartments along the west wall of the bay.

Leonard looks ahead to Jim's destination, a smile coming to his face as he realizes what Jim's thinking of. He follows after Jim.

Jim opens the cabinet and starts pulling out the spacesuits. "Shit." There's only two present the other two spots are vacant, left useless by some ensign that hasn't gotten around to putting away the equipment yet. There are two suits which is perfect, except technically there's three of them now. He knows the second Leonard figures out the moral problem.

"Jim, what about Khan?"

 _What about him_ , Jim wants to ask. He came here with the explicit purpose of killing the man; now seems like a foolish time to worry about saving his ass. The man convinced everyone he killed Leonard in cold blood. He killed the first officer and seems to have no compunction about killing the rest of the crew. Who knows how many people Khan killed to get to this point or how many he will kill if he's allowed to live another day. And yet, knowing all that, Jim knows Leonard won't willingly take a life. It's what makes Leonard an amazing human being, if not a little frustrating sometimes.

Jim could force the issue. All he'd have to do is put one suit on and refuse to help Leonard get Khan into the other one while reminding Leonard all the things he needs to live for: Joanna, Jim. Leonard would do it, but it would poison his soul and darken the rest of their days. It would haunt Jim too because like Nero, Khan aims to take everything away from people, including their humanity and that's one thing Jim's not prepared to lose or watch someone else lose. It wasn't an issue when he figured he'd be dead pretty quickly after but the thought of living with that poison for the rest of his life, when Khan didn't kill Leonard, is a little daunting.

Two suits and three people. No matter the combination, it's going to be a dark day.


	28. Chapter 28

Darkness and acidic smoke fill the bridge. Red warning lights glow against the clouds of smoke like some incarnation of hell. There are bodies on the floor, some belonging to the Enterprise, some don't. Spock knew the augments would not go quietly, but he had not anticipated a battlefield such as this.

Uhura and Scotty are still pinned down in the turbo lift, seeking shelter by pressing against the sides of the lift. Spock and Sulu manage to make it onto the bridge, but are forced to take refuge behind one of the consols against the onslaught of weapons fire from the last augment using the navigations consol as his protection. Chekov hasn't made it much further. There isn't enough cover to get over and within with arms length of the terrorist and phasers are rather ineffective on anything less than kill. Even giving the regrettable order to set phasers to kill, the augment has not given them the opening to get a clean shot.

Sulu coughs on the acidic air. "If this keeps up, the bridge will be useless," he says," sparks flying as the consol takes another phaser hit.

"Indeed," agrees Spock.

Chekov glances around desperately. His eyes narrow on the silver glint tucked in the boot of the unconscious augment beside him under the communications station. Staying hunched he cautiously reaches out for it. "Sulu," he hisses, trying to get the helmsman's attention. As soon as Sulu looks, he slides the knife across the floor to him.

Sulu picks the knife up. It's not a sword, but it'll work. He turns to Spock. "Think you can pull his fire?"

Spock raises an eyebrow. He nods, and signals Scotty and Uhura to open fire as well when he gives the signal.

Sulu counts down from three on his fingers. The other three open fire as Sulu closes his hand. He jumps up from behind the consol and throws the knife. It hits the augment dead center, the man dropping dead to the floor and ending the occupation of the bridge.

"Well done, lad," compliments Scotty, popping his head out from the turbo lift to see the threat neutralized.

"Stations, everyone," orders Spock and his people move quickly to reclaim their spots. "I want the containment protocol shut down, our systems reclaimed, our people free and the augments locked down. Make bridge environmental controls a priority." They can't function properly in these conditions.

"We need to help Jim, Captain," interjects Chekov, his voice cracking. "He's going to blow the cargo bay hatch with him and Khan inside."

"Mr Scott, see what you can do to aid Mr Kirk," says Spock.

"Aye," acknowledges Scotty, taking a seat at one of the consols. "Get over here and help me, laddie," he barks at Chekov, as his fingers fly over the interface.

A tension fills the air as everyone tries to keep busy as they wait for some good news from Scotty or Chekov. Every tap of every key can be heard in crystal clarity.

"I've got a force field up," declares Scotty and the bridge takes a collective breath. "But it's not going to last," he adds, looking grief stricken. "We need some way to get him out of there fast or he's going to get sucked out into space."

* * *

"Help me with him," says Jim, resigned to fact that fate just doesn't want to deal him that winning hand. They get the suit on Khan who's still unconscious. Part of Jim wishes he could see the look on the asshole's face when he realizes that someone so inferior saved his ass, but he supposes Khan would just write it off as foolish sentiment and a failure of Jim's resolve.

"Your turn," says Jim as he realizes Leonard's just standing there. The force field isn't going to last much longer and there's no stopping this train now.

Leonard shakes his head. "Not without you."

"I lost you once today. I can't watch you die again," pleads Jim.

"You're an idiot," scolds Leonard.

Jim gives him a lopsided smile. "I prefer the term hero."

"You think I can watch you die anymore than you can me?"

"You have everything to live for."

"There's nothing without you. Besides, I can't leave you standing here looking all pathetic." Leonard crosses his arm.

"Structural failure is imminent," reminds the computer.

There's no point in wasting their last moments arguing. Leonard's not going to budge and there is no argument that will make Jim stand down. Jim sits down, Leonard sitting beside him, wrapping himself around Jim. They lean against the wall, watching the impressive expanse of stars.

"So much for space being safe," huffs Leonard.

Jim can't help but laugh. "I said shuttles were pretty safe. I never said being trapped in a cargo bay with a failing force field wasn't hazardous to your health. Getting on that shuttle," says Jim, his voice tight and throat aching, "was the best decision I ever made." It's true, even with all the shit that's rained down on them, Jim would go through it all again as long as he got to do it with Leonard.

Leonard nuzzles his face against Jim's shaggy hair and gently places a kiss against the tiny patch of unmarred skin by Jim's ear. "I love you."

Jim holds Leonard tighter, burying his head against Leonard's chest. He closes his eyes and gets lost in the steady and strong rhythm of Leonard's heart beat until the world fades away.

.  
..

And reshapes like the transporter room on deck five.

"Uspekh!" cheers Chekov, completely self-satisfied. He practically sings, "It worked."

Jim opens his eyes as he feels Leonard's arms let go and puts his hands down on the cold hard metal of the transporter pad.

The metal of the transporter pad and not the cargo.

The transporter pad and not the cold vacuum of space.

Alive.

They're alive. Jim could almost kiss the floor.

Leonard has a very similar idea as he gets up off the transporter and marches over to Chekov whose smile could power the warp core. "I take back everything I ever said about you needing your head examined, kid," he says as he grabs Chekov's head with both hands and pulls him in for a long dramatic kiss on the forehead. "Most valuable person on this tin can," declares Leonard, sagging against the control consol.

Chekov blushes, dropping his head to look at his feet.

"Hey," protests Jim, acting affronted.

Leonard waves him off with a dismissive hand. "This kid just saved our asses. What have you done lately?"

Jim frowns with a sly smile. "I just took on Khan, helped liberate the ship, recued the Captain as well as saved Chekov and Scotty," he points out. It really has been a busy day.

"Is that all," sasses Leonard. "You're falling behind, Jim."

Jim lets out a short laugh. It hurts too much to do much else. The day suddenly catches up to him as a tiredness ripples through, weighing down his arms and legs. He lays down slowly on the transporter pad and closes his eyes. He could really go for a nap right. Just a couple of minutes or days, that's all he needs.

"Wait," Jim says, his eyes snapping open as he raises his head just enough to look at Chekov. "We did retake the ship right?" It's kind of an important fact because Jim doubts he has it in him to go another round.

Chekov's smile gets bigger if that's even possible. He nods, his curls bopping along. "We have successfully regained control of the ship," he reports.

Jim gives a thumbs up, letting his head fall back against the deck. He doesn't have the energy for words.

"Come on," badgers Leonard, standing over Jim with his hand out stretched. "You have a hot date with sickbay."

Jim slaps Leonard's hand away. "I don't want to go to sickbay," he whines. He could sleep right here just fine. "You're mean to me in sickbay."

"Well, you should have thought about that before you let Khan use you as a punching bag," counters Leonard, pulling Jim to his feet. He can tell by the way Jim is holding himself that his leg is bothering him and Khan's handiwork is painful to look at, so it must be agony to endure. He pulls Jim's arm over his shoulder to help take his weight and guides him to the door.

Jim stops just as the doors open. "Khan's in a suit floating somewhere out there. We should probably beam him into the brig and collect all those cryo pods. His people don't deserve to be left out there like that."

* * *

"You think you've won something here today?" asks Khan as he paces the length of his cell like a lion.

Jim shrugs. Honestly, he doesn't feel like they won anything. People still died and there's forty people stuck in cryo-stasis. They're probably exactly like Khan but Jim doesn't have the right to determine that since they've been asleep for the last three hundred years. Now there's the immediate question of what to do with the other forty Khan did wake up.

"What are you going to do with my people," demands the augment.

"You'll stand trial for hijacking a starship and be sentenced. Most likely life in prison." It's a harsh sentence but they both know the augments can't exactly walk free after their sentence is up.

"You don't have a prison that will hold us," scoffs Khan, then with a little more sorrow adds, "it would be better to kill us. We weren't built to be in captivity."

Jim can relate. His cage isn't as defined as theirs but he still lives in a cage. It's also the first time Khan's looked like a caring leader and not a despot. "You faked Doctor McCoy's death."

"It had the desired effect I was looking for," counters Khan. "Your crew believed my sincerity that I would kill them and it saved me from having to listen to the good doctor preach the virtues of keeping you people alive."

"You didn't kill him. Why?" Jim asks, not that he's really complaining, but Khan showed no compunction about killing anyone else, what made Leonard so special in his eyes?

"The doctor impressed me," he says sincerely. It's not often that someone outside of his people peaks his interest or proves themselves in the possession of any desirable traits. McCoy stood tall when he should have yielded.

Jim frowns. There are a million things about Leonard that impress Jim every single day but for the life of him he can't fathom why they would interest Khan. "Why put him in a cryo tube?"

"The doctor possesses skills I can make use of. He would be of value to my people once the universe bowed at our feet. Cryo sleep was a place to tuck him safely out of the way until then. I can tolerate a lot but I don't think I could tolerate listening to him bitch about my killing you for the next decade. Waking him once the new order was established would have eliminated some of that." Khan says it so matter-of-factly that it sends a chill down Jim's spine.

"Do with me what you will, but you should let the others sleep until there is a world in which they belong." He goes without voicing that he doesn't believe that world is far away, but it's written all over his face.

Now that the imminent threat is gone, Khan just looks like a cage animal dreaming of the freedom it once had. It's kind of sad. Jim knows what it's like to want something and be denied. Khan's not wrong that life in a cage is no life at all. There aren't a lot of options though. He leans closer to the force field keeping Khan confined and says, "Just remember, physically inferior, yet morally superior saved your ass," before walking out of the brig section.

Khan scoffs as Jim goes but doesn't come up with a witty retort.

Spock is standing there waiting just outside the door. He purses his lips together. "Curious. You didn't kill him when given the opportunity."

Jim sighs. Everything he knows about the universe screamed in unison that he should end the monster but it just didn't feel right. "He's locked in the brig. It wouldn't have been very sporting. Plus I think Starfleet has some regulations about that that would make it a war crime or something."

"That is not of which I speak," corrects Spock.

Jim takes a moment. He wanted to, hell, there's a part of him that still does. There mere thought of that man taking the slightest interest in Leonard makes his heart pound. In the end though what would that make Jim? A murderer? Jealous lover? Someone who wants to eradicate anyone that doesn't fit his ideal of who should belong in this universe? That's exactly what got them into this mess in the first place, one person hell bent on deciding what deserves to exist. Sure the galaxy would sleep better if the likes of Khan weren't in it, but Jim wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror and for the first time in a long time, he thinks he might be able to. "If we can't show mercy to our enemies then we're no better than they are."

Spock admires the restraint. He tells himself everyday that logic governs his universe, that his human half is subject to Vulcan law but he has a suspicion that if it were Uhura in Leonard's place, he wouldn't even try to stop his emotional side.

"We can't just keep them locked up for eternity," says Jim. He kind of hates himself a little for suggesting it - mercy for a man and a people that would happily show them none. Damn if Leonard's moral high ground isn't contagious.

"We cannot put them back in cryo sleep. The tubes are beginning to fail." It would be a death sentence to reactive them for the augments that are awake and to leave the ones that are still asleep.

"No," agrees Jim.

"What do you propose?" asks Spock. Khan has proven able to escape Starfleet control before, a similar situation would be desirable to avoid.

"What if we give him what he wants?" poses Jim.

"You wish to give him a ship?" asks Spock a little deterred by the logic behind such a choice.

"No. We give him a planet to rule. A place where he and his people could build their own society, start from scratch and do what they want. Without access to modern technology it's not like they can get off the planet," suggest Jim. It's not perfect but it's an alternative.

"It is an idea," agrees Spock.

"Ceti Alpha Five is close by. It's a little harsh but supports human life and there are no current civilizations there," recommends Jim as he walks away. He's running on fumes and just wants to crawl into bed or ravage his husband- he could probably find the energy for that.

* * *

Leonard meets Jim at the door to their quarters. This time as Jim enters it feels less like a tomb and more like home.

"Geoff and Christine have sickbay under control," informs Leonard. All things considered there isn't a long list of patients in sickbay. Most of it is tending to sprains and minor cuts, stuff the junior medics can handle, so Leonard's not going to waste the opportunity his supposed death has provided where everyone is just so happy he's alive that he can take the day off. Besides, making sure Jim takes it easy for awhile is a full time job.

"Great," says Jim, staggering towards their bedroom. He's been dreaming of the feel of those sheets ever since Chekov beamed them out of the cargo bay but then Spock called him and informed him Khan had been beamed aboard, was awake and looking to speak with Jim only.

He pulls back the covers, his clothes and boots still on. He's too tired to worry about them. He's half way to diving into his pillow when the ship wide announcement comes on.

"Jim Kirk and Doctor McCoy to the bridge," orders Spock.

"I hate him," whines Jim into his pillow.

"What does that pointed eared bastard want now?" snaps Leonard, exhaustion providing an extra layer of crank to his voice.

"I don't know," huffs Jim and it takes a lot to convince his body to reverse course and return to standing. Spock doesn't sound like he's in a good mood, but he's a Vulcan so he often sounds pissy just becuase. This time though, Jim has a weird feeling in his gut that a dressing down is coming his way.

Jim and Leonard are silent in the turbo life. It's the calm before the storm. The bridge is its usual flurry of activity as officers move like waves across the beach getting the ship back in proper order. It's a welcomed sight but the chaos is a little overwhelming. Spock is sitting in his captain's chair with Uhura standing next to him holding a bunch of PADDs awaiting Spock's approval. Everyone stops as Jim steps out on to the bridge, all eyes on them.

"You asked to see me, Captain?" asks Jim with apprehension. It definitely looks like he was the topic of conversation before he walked in here. Yes he stopped Khan but it certainly wasn't regulation and he's not blind to the damage sustained to the ship in the attempt, still, Spock could give him a day or two before reading him the riot act. Getting called on the carpet is going to put a damper on the mood tonight and Jim has some rather depraved plans for his husband.

"Yes." Spock gets up from the captain's chair and stands before Jim and Leonard, Uhura on his heels. "It appears I am medically compromised," states Spock.

"Medically compromised?" repeats Jim, trying to wrap his head around what those words mean in the context of him. Jim's a nobody on this ship, the Captain certainly doesn't have to divulge any information to him, let alone his potential medical status.

"I have a head injury," clarified Spock.

Leonard screws up his face in disagreement. The tiny spot of green blood on the Vulcan's forehead is so far from concerning, it's laughable. "That's hardly a head injury."

Spock glares at Leonard in that typical dispassionate Vulcan fashion. Jim has to agree though. _He_ has a head injury, earned himself another one today too. That little scratch that's barely oozing lime green fluid is not a head injury.

"We presently have no first officer to assume command," continues Spock in his reporting. "Mr Scott is busy repairing the engine room. Dr McCoy has expressed a desire to not fulfill command duties as the fourth highest ranking officer."

"You bet your Vulcan ass I don't," Leonard agrees readily. Leonard McCoy does not take command shifts. He has enough infants to babysit in sickbay he doesn't want a ship full.

"Which leaves us without someone to command the ship."

It doesn't. The chain of command has many more links in it. Hell, the replicators probably have more authority on this ship than Jim, even the broken one on deck five, so Jim can't figure out why Spock feels compelled to share this information with him. Maybe Spock does have a head injury because there's only one reason Jim can come up with that Spock would be telling him this and surely Spock can't be suggesting that. "Me? You want me to…" It's too much to hope.

"Unless Dr McCoy has a compelling reason why you cannot fill the position until we reach our destination," says Spock looking at Leonard.

Leonard has hundreds of reason why this is a bad idea, but looking at that hopeful look on his husband's face, he can't remember why any of them are important enough to keep this brief chance away from Jim and deny him this small reward. He shakes his head and looks at Jim. "It's up to you."

"Yes," answers Jim, giddy. He's already walking towards the chair.

"Very well, the con is yours." Spock steps in front of him and quietly adds, " _Only_ until we reach Khan's new planet."

It's a reminder that this is only temporary and not to get too comfortable. Jim nods. He takes a seat, his body falling into it like it was made to be there. The feel of the soft leather sets him at ease, the position as familiar and comforting as his own shadow. It feels like home. All his aches and pains melt away with the tension as he takes a deep breath.

"Where to, Captain?" asks Uhura as she goes back to her station. Spock takes a seat at the science station behind Jim and Sulu and Chekov swivel their chairs back to face their consol.

"There'll be no living with him now," mutters Leonard with an irritated smirk as he moves to stand beside Jim.

"Helm, take us to Ceti Alpha Five, warp five," orders Jim.

"Aye, aye," say Sulu and Chekov in unison as the Enterprise gets under way.

* * *

_Captain Pike to Starfleet Command_

_RE commendations_

_As my first act back as Captain of the USS Enterprise, I wish to award a commendation to Una, aka Number One, for a commendable job stepping in as not only first officer for cmdr Spock when he was assigned to Ambassador Spock after we rescued the Ambassador from Delta Vega, but for her exemplary work as acting captain following my incapacitation during our altercation with the Narada._

_It is also my honour to award commendations to 1) Doctor Leonard McCoy, who despite personal injury was instrumental in not only saving my life after the battle but that of fellow cadet Kirk. I also have it on good authority that McCoy's skill helped all the survivors (even those that were ultimately executed by Nero). 2) Field commissioned Ensign James T Kirk, who's ingenuity and bravery alerted the Federation to the attack and ambush of Vulcan, saving the fleet, despite great personal danger. James Kirk exemplifies all the traits that make an outstanding officer. Starfleet is lucky to have him. Expect big things from him in the future._

End-

* * *

**Epilogue**

Jim taps his finger against his bishop, debating the best move. Spock has him backed into a corner pretty good today but Jim's in no mood to lose this chess match. If Spock gets too many wins in a row he becomes unbearable. Leonard would say it's the other way around but Jim refuses to believe he's either a sore loser or a sore winner.

"Was that Uhura leaving your quarters this morning?" Jim asks moving his hand over to his queen. Leonard's agreed to stay on as CMO now that their trail period is over so Jim like to stay abreast of things happening on the ship he now calls home. If it makes the Captain blush- bonus.

"I have no comment on the matter," states Spock eyeing Jim suspiciously as Jim moves his hand to his rook.

"Ok." Jim finally moves his knight. He sits back and watches as Spock starts to calculate Jim's possible strategy. "She looked good," he says with a tilt of the head and a carefully hidden smile. "Doing the stride of pride is all I'm saying."

Spock frowns but stays silent.

"It's an Earth expression," he clarifies because he's in arm's reach of a bear, has a stick and the temptation is just too much.

Spock steeples his fingers and presses them against his lips, silent as the grave.

"It means you had sex last night," adds Jim with unbound enthusiasm.

"I know what it means," snaps Spock.

An evil smirk over takes Jim. "Good."

Spock picks up his queen with the intention of making his first move to put Jim in check.

"When's the wedding?" asks Jim before Spock can put the piece down. Spock tactfully doesn't answer but Jim hears the piece crack before Spock puts it down on the wrong level to be effective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, we've come to the end. As I was editing what would become chapters 27 and 28 last week, I was a little sad it was ending. What started last year as an idea for a 4-8 chapter slice of life kind of story quickly evolved into a much longer more developed story that when I stated posting this year, never dreamed would get the response it has. Thank you, your love has been overwhelming. I certainly never dreamed I would I would write an entire novel length story. At this time I have no hard plans for a full length sequel as such but I will leave this sandbox open, because I'm not ready to let these versions of the characters go yet. I do have a kind of side short story and will make this story as a series so people can find it easier.  
> I can't remember exactly who (please forgive me) commented that there is a grave shortage of stories out there in which Jim looks after Leonard and it got the plot bunnies stirring. Be on the look out for 'Look Closely at the Night Sky and You’ll Catch a Glimpse of Venus': Leonard had said he woke up with a bad feeling, that they should just go back to bed and call the who day off. Jim should have listened. Now in the wake of tragedy, Jim is faced with a life altering decision he might not be able to live with. He supposed this is why he's governed his life on the principle that it's better to remain unattached and do the leaving than get invested and be left.  
> Also because Halloween is approaching and it's totally my holiday, I've been inspired to jump right into the AU ocean and write a supernatural (the theme not the TV show) story. 'A Pale Horse Bringing a Bouquet of Daisies': Leonard's seen some incredible things in this life; he's seen the impossible made possible by unbelievable means. So it isn't a complete shock when he finds a wounded demon in the forest, but did it have to be so incredible gorgeous?  
> Again thank you so much for reading. Stay safe out there.


End file.
